


Flying Low

by BellaBaby2468, Clarrisani



Series: Saving Grace [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depression, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 01:59:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellaBaby2468/pseuds/BellaBaby2468, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clarrisani/pseuds/Clarrisani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While sharing a bag of pot Sam brought back to their cabin by the lake, Dean learns all is not well with his brother. Written as an RP on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flying Low

**Author's Note:**

> \- Written as an RP via submissions on Tumblr. Clarrisani is Dean, BellaBaby2468 is Sam  
> \- BellaBaby2468 Tumblr: http://humming-metallica-in-the-tardis.tumblr.com/  
> \- Clarrisani Tumblr: http://clarrisani.tumblr.com/  
> \- Dean is 20; Sam is 16

 “Sam!” Dean stepped out of the log cabin, cupping his hand to his eyes to shield them from the glare of the setting sun. He looked around, gazing down the thin dirt track that led back onto the main road. “Sammy!” He scowled, turning and heading back inside, making sure to close and lock the door.

He fixed the salt line, his father’s instructions skipping through his mind. ‘Stay out of sight, make sure the cabin is protected and keep your brother safe’. Easier said than done – Sam had developed a habit for taking off the second he’d hit puberty, and it was getting worse with every passing year. Dean set his jaw, heading out the back door of the cabin and along the overgrown path to the lake. “Sam!”

Sam was lying on his back in the too-long grass. It was spring, so everything was plush and green. The light was slowly fading, but it just made it better. Slowly bringing the joint in his hand up to his lips, he took a long, slow drag. Breathing out, he watched the smoke curl above his mouth, telling stories with the shapes. He was shirtless, jeans coming down low, exposing his hipbones. He was a little too skinny, but that was okay. He kind of liked it. Sam’s hand ran a hand through his hair, so slow. Closing his eyes for a moment, he breathes “in a pipe, she flies to the motherland”, quoting a song he heard once. He _was_ flying. And it was perfection. 

 “Sam, if you don’t answer so help me I will kick your ass!” Dean tugged at his shirt, scowling at the heat and humidity. He’d rather have been inside drinking a cold drink, not tramping through thorns and, for all his luck, poison ivy trying to find his dick sixteen-year-old brother. “SAMMY!” He reached the end of the path, stepping out into the clearing that led to the small, rotting dock. He stopped, gazing out over the water and quickly concluding Sam hadn’t gone for a swim. “SAM!”

At the other side of the lake, on the small grassy patch, Sam all of a sudden heard a shout.  Quickly propping himself up on his elbows, he realized that it was brother. Shouting for _him_. “Crap!” he muttered, awkwardly trying to lift his heavy limbs properly, but they wouldn’t comply. He was way too stoned. He just didn’t have the effort in him. “Crap, damn, oh god” he breathed, still trying to get up. If Dean saw him like this he’d be screwed. There was a huge rock just next to him, if he could just manage to get behind it, he’d be fine. But no luck. Awesome. Sighing in defeat, he called out “Dean. Here”, draping an arm across his eyes.

Hearing the reply, Dean felt a flood of relief sweep through him. He turned toward the voice, spotting a movement amongst the grass and heading toward it. As he approached a familiar smell wafted over him, Dean blinking. There was no way geeky little Sam would… The thought was dismissed the second he saw Sam, seeing the blown pupils, the leaves caught in Sam’s tied back hair, the slight sway in Sam’s body. Dean stopped in front of him, blinking in surprise. “Dude, are you stoned?”

Sam looked up at him from where he still lay on the grass, feeling his cheeks flush a little. He knew how he must look, blown pupils, and a fucked-out sort of flush across his skin. “Um… No?” he breathed, thinking that Dean was way too pretty to be so far away right now. He didn’t even think about the obvious fact that he was still holding his joint, lazily stuck between two fingers, hand flopped on the grass next to him. Blinking slowly, half watching his own eyelashes in the corner of his vision, his lips fell apart. “God, why the hell are you so pretty Dean?” he asked, unconsciously mimicking childhood innocence.

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother’s comment, dropping onto the ground beside him and stretching out. “Just be glad Dad’s not here, or he’d kill you.” Dean reached out, plucking the joint from Sam’s fingers and taking a long drag on it. He held it in his mouth for a while, enjoying the feeling before blowing out a well-practiced smoke ring. He glanced sideways at Sam’s reaction before taking a proper pull on the joint.

Sam watched him lay down next to him, making a little complaining sound when Dean snatched the joint from his fingers. Then his brother was taking a drag, and painting a story in the smoke with a wedding ring, and he raised his eyes in shock. It was numb shock though; he was far too stoned to feel things properly. Clumsily reaching over to Dean, he tried to grab the joint “hey, give that back. It’s mine” he insisted. 

 “Learn to share, bitch,” Dean said, taking another long drag. This time he blew the smoke ring at Sam’s face, amused at the way it bounced off his little brother’s flushed skin. He was still a little surprised by the fact Sam was out here stoning. Aside from the rebelling against their father by staying out passed curfew, growing his hair long and just generally arguing about every single damned thing, Sam was every bit the geeky square of a bookworm. Dean knew by now nothing Sam did should surprise him, and he had to admit Sam had managed to get some good weed. “So where’d you get this shit? It’s not bad.”

Sam blinked a few more times, lips open, and some of it went in his mouth. He didn’t mind so much. “It’s mine” he repeated, a little too far gone to come up with a better argument, or to use force. “None of your business,” he answered, “give it back”. They were already quite close to each other, but Sam shuffled over a bit, extending his hand out towards the joint. “Come on!” he complained, letting his too-heavy hand fall onto Dean’s chest.

 “No seriously, where’d you get this. Got more?” Dean held the joint out away from Sam, a smile tugging at his lips as Sam tried to reach for it. He chuckled, thinking about the way Sam had tried to breathe the smoke from the ring in. An idea tugged at the back of Dean’s mind - a bad one, he knew, but an intriguing one. “I said learn to share,” he teased, giving Sam a shove. “You ever shot gunned?”

 “None of your business Dean!” he certainly wasn’t going to tell his brother he’d whored himself out to a prostitute for it. “Of course I have more” he admitted, clumsily reaching into his jean pocket and pulling out a package the size of his palm. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s suggestion, “Dean, shot gunning means lips on lips. I would have to be a little more stoned for that to seem like a good idea” he said, very, very surprised he’d strung together a sentence that long. But looking at those pretty plush lips, he reconsidered. 

Dean grinned at the package Sam held out, giving him a thumbs up as he took another drag from the joint, starting to feel the buzz. It’d been over a month since Dean had gotten stoned himself, passing a bong around with a group of guys at a party he’d been invited to. Dean didn’t comment on how defensive Sam was about where he’d gotten the weed, and to be honest Dean didn’t really care. “Well Sammy, unless you want to roll yourself another joint, then share.” He shrugged, taking another long drag, holding it in his mouth before exhaling slowly. “Besides, it’s not like kissing or anything. Never took you to be such a prude.”

Sam gave him a lazy, amused smile, in return for the thumbs up. He considered rolling another, but concluded that he probably couldn’t physically do that right now, he was too clumsy and heavy. “Not a prude” he replied, nudging him in the leg with a foot. Sighing, he told him “fine. Get over here”. Shuffling closer, he craned his neck up, and parted his lips again. “You better roll another for me after this, stealing all my pot,” he warned, frowning as he felt the effects of the previous joint slightly wearing out.

 “Didn’t steal it,” Dean said, sitting up a little and changing his angle. It’d been a while since he’d shot gunned, but it was like riding a bike. “I borrowed it. Like I said – sharing.” Dean brought the joint to his lips, taking a long drag and holding the smoke in his mouth. He savored it for a moment before he brought his face close to Sam’s, lips barely brushing his brother’s as he exhaled slowly into Sam’s mouth.

 “Yes you did steal it. From me,” he persisted, wanting him to hurry up and give him another hit. Opening his lips, he craned his neck up, and felt the soft brush of his brother’s lips. Then the smoke was filling him up, filling his veins with magic, and he was closing his lips to trap it inside. Waiting ten seconds, he touched a hand to his lips, and breathed out his soul. “Another,” he whispered, closing his eyes, and blindly reaching out for Dean’s shoulder.

 “Borrowed it, Sammy,” Dean said, watching as Sam breathed the smoke back out. “Sharing it,” he reaffirmed, taking another toke of his own. Wherever Sam had gotten this weed it was the real deal. Given how potent it was it hadn’t been mixed with anything, and Dean could feel the steady buzz building up in him. He looked down as Sam asked for another. He raised his eyebrows slightly, taking another long drag and holding it in his mouth. He used a knuckle on Sam’s chin to tilt his head up to a better angle and breathed against Sam’s lips.

Sam let Dean tilt his head, pliant in his hands. Opening his lips, he sucked in the smoke willingly, unthinkingly pushing their lips a little firmer together. Sealing his lips together, he kept the smoke in again, for another ten seconds, before parting his lips and becoming divine. In some part of his brain, he knew his thoughts were nuts, the effect of being far too high. But in this part of his brain? He was a creature. A divine creature. So carefully reaching up to curl his hand around the back of Dean’s neck, he locked eyes with him and whispered “one more Dean, just one more”.

Dean frowned as Sam pushed into him, pressing their lips together. He brushed it off, pulling back and rolling the joint between his fingers. He glanced back at Sam at the feel of the fingers behind his neck, meeting Sam’s blown gaze. He glanced sideways at the joint again, pursing his lips. “Think it’s only got one more in it anyway.” He said, bringing it to his lips. He breathed deep, feeling the heat on his fingertips as the joint burned short. He closed his eyes, enjoying the quality before he glanced at Sam. He leaned forward, not hesitating as he sealed his mouth against Sam’s and breathed into him.

Sam closed his eyes and pulled Dean’s mouth onto his harder, inhaling the smoke out of his mouth, but not sealing his lips. Instead, he kept his lips open, pressed against his brothers, sharing the smoke between their mouths. It was a hybrid of shot gunning and just general kissing, and he loved it. Leaning his head back against the grass, he pulled Dean down with him, hand sliding into his hair. Sam couldn’t even explain the euphoria he was feeling, world spinning and crystalizing around him.

Dean let Sam pull him down, balancing himself above his brother with one hand as he stubbed the used joint out with the other. He wasn’t anywhere near high enough to be doing this, and he eventually pulled back and blew the smoke out of his nose. He fumbled for the bag of weed, glancing down. “Got something to roll a new joint in, Sammy? I’ve got a lot of catching up to do. You’re way ahead of me here, baby boy.”

Sam closed his eyes and breathed out the rest of the smoke, seeing the devils face in the stars that probably weren’t there. Or maybe he just imagined it. He didn’t know anymore. “In my pocket” he whispered, after a long moment to arrange his thoughts. “Dean I want to swim. Can we swim” he asked, head lolling to the side. “Lighter is in there too” he added, finger idly trailing along his collarbones, feeling them jut out.

 “Yeah, you can swim. Just don’t go out too far. Because by the time I’m done I’m gonna be too stoned to save your ass.” Dean reached into Sam’s pocket, tugging out the paper and sitting back. He began expertly rolling himself a joint, glancing up at Sam. “Waist deep, no deeper.” He ran his tongue over the edges of the paper to moisten it, sealing the joint and tugging his own lighter from his pocket, lighting the stick. He took a long drag, flopping back onto the grass and relaxing.

Sam took about a minute just to get himself on his feet, and then another two to walk down to the water. He walked into the water, not stopping until he was neck-deep, but still had a firm stance on the bottom. Turning around to look at his brother, he called “get in here you land-fish!” Sam wasn’t entirely sure where that insult came from, but it made him giggle so he added some more, “You finless potato land-shark!” he yelled. Sam continued giggling to himself, and moving his arms around in the water. It felt amazing, like silk on his skin.

 “I’ll be in once I finish this,” Dean called back, glancing out into the water. He frowned. “Sammy, I said waist deep!” He rolled his eyes, dropping his head back onto the ground and gazing up at the stars that were beginning to appear in the darkening sky. He took a long drag on the joint, closing his eyes to savor it before blowing it out through his nose. He was already more than halfway to high, but he knew he still had a bit of catching up to do with Sam.

 “And I said give my joint back!” Sam retorted, still swishing his arms around in the water. There were fish in the water apparently, rainbow ones, light glinting off them. Perhaps that prostitute didn’t _just_ give him weed, but something else in there too… He pushed that thought aside. Everything was too perfect. The water was lighting up around him like the northern lights, and his brother was a beautiful creature. Perfection. The stars were just coming out overhead, like a thousand hanging twinkly lights. He wasn’t sure what was happening, he just knew that it was good. Stepping a deep further, the water swelled around his mouth, like it was begging him to let it fill him like blood.

 “We finished yours, remember?” Dean called out. He held the joint up. “This one’s mine.” Dean brought it down, taking another long drag. He loved the feeling of being high. It was like it lifted the weight of the world off his shoulder, if only for a moment. It made him feel happy. Sure it was drug induced happiness, but Dean took what he could get. He closed his eyes, sighing and listening to Sam splash around. Dean licked his lips before breathing in another lungful of the joint, smiling faintly. Yeah, he definitely liked being high.

Sam turned around to poke out his tongue at his brother, and slipped briefly, head submerging. Quickly standing back up, with a lot of effort, he put his arms out to steady him. “Still my weed!” he yelled, eyes closed to keep the water out. Rubbing his eyes, he opened them and watched Dean on the shore for a moment or two. Licking his lips, and there was a tiny smile there, something Sam didn’t see so often. It was nice to see it now.

 “I’ll share next time I get my hands on some,” Dean called back. He pushed himself up, wincing slightly as a sharp pain in his back cued him into the fact he’d been lying on something. He glanced back, spotting the rock. “Stupid rock,” he muttered, giving it a shove to the side, “my spot.” He took another long drag, frowning as he realized that he was going through the joint rather quickly. He brushed it off. Sam had more. Speaking of Sam, Dean glanced up and groaned. “Sam, I’m not going to save you if you drown. Get your stupid ass back into shallow water.”

Sam nodded, before deciding that was a bad idea, it made him dizzy. Watching the brief interaction with the rock, he giggled, taking a tiny step deeper, so the water covered his mouth again. Then Dean looked up, and he giggled again, air bubbling from his mouth. “Not your pet, Dean!” he yelled, lifting his chin up a little, “besides, you  _would_ save me anyway”. At least he would try. 

 “Way I’m feeling right now, Sammy-boy, I’d probably drown before I got anywhere near you.” Dean blinked, rubbing his eyes. This was definitely a lot stronger than he was used too. He couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else mixed in with the pot. He’d definitely have to grill Sam later about where exactly he had gotten it from. The joint was almost a stump now; maybe one or two more drags left on it. Dean frowned, deciding it was all together too hot out here. He set the joint down carefully on a rock before dragging his shirt over his head, tossing it toward where Sam had left his own. He picked the joint back up, watching Sam as he took in another lungful.

Sam raised his eyebrows, watching that shirt fall to the ground. Whistling at him, he started walking to more shallow waters. Deciding he’d swum enough, he made his way up the grass, and flopped down next to his brother. “Dean can you roll another, I don’t even want to be able to think anymore” he whispered, trying to block out all the memories and thoughts that had all of a sudden plagued him.

Dean’s eyebrows rose slightly at the whistle, and he couldn’t help the glare he shot toward his brother. If there was one thing Dean didn’t like it was when people objectified him. He reached for the rolling paper and bag, resting his own joint down again and making Sam a new one. Dean felt a flash of frustration at his slight lack of co-ordination – probably the only real downside to getting high. Dean had learned fairly early on that, when high, shooting and driving were NOT a good idea. Especially shooting while driving. Especially shooting at hallucinations while driving. He was lucky Bobby had never told Dad about that. He handed Sam the joint and tossed him the lighter, before picking up his own and taking another puff. “Thought you wanted to swim.”

 “Thanks, De” Sam breathed, watching him roll it. Taking the joint, and grabbing the lighter off the ground, he answered “taking too long” before bringing it to his lips and lighting it. Sam took a long drag, and another, and another. He kept smoking until he was half way through, then took a little break. Staring up at the sky, he breathed out the smoke, feeling his brain fuzz up. Perfect. He didn’t want to feel. He didn’t want to think.  ”Dean. Have you ever committed suicide?” he asked, tongue feeling too thick. Then he realized what he’d said and started giggling, rolling over towards Dean, clutching his stomach. “I meant considered! Considered!” he corrected, flopping onto his back again. Sam wasn’t sure where the question came from, but it was already out of his mouth now.

Dean knew he was staring at Sam like he was from another planet, but he couldn’t help it. He shuffled over to Sam, catching his chin in his hand and leaning close to look Sam directly in the eye. “Sam, if something’s wrong, you tell me and I’ll fix it, okay? That’s my job. I gotta look out for you.” Dean could feel a rock forming in the pit of his stomach. “Just tell me what it is and I’ll take care of it.”

Sam let himself be moved around, not that he really could have resisted anyway. “No I can’t tell” he said, shaking his head and staring at his brother’s plush lips. Closing his eyes was the only way he stopped staring. “Everything is wrong, De. Everything is wrong. Everything” Sam whispered, face contorting in pain. Craning his head forward a little, he rested his forehead against Dean’s. “There’s nothing left for me here,” he said.

Dean brought his hand around to rest on the back of Sam’s neck, thumb trailing through the fine strands there. “That’s not true Sammy and you know it. You’re a genius. You could do anything. You’re topping your class and I’m damned sure you’re going to get a high SAT. Then you can do anything you want with your life.” He swallowed. “I mean, we save people Sammy. We’re heroes. And if you don’t want to do this then go to College. You have that choice. I never did but you do.” Dean looked up into Sam’s too close eyes. “Just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it, okay? That’s my job.”

Sam hummed deep in his throat, nudging into Dean’s hand. Opening his eyes, his vision was filled with the greengreengreen of his brother’s eyes. Swallowing, his mouth felt weird and tingly. Sam licked his lips and touched their noses together, breathing deeply. Then he remembered his joint and backed away for a moment, taking a drag, and pushed his lips against Dean’s. Pushing the smoke into his mouth, he sighed, one hand coming up to rest against his brother’s cheek. Breaking away, he breathed “everything’s wrong. Everything. You can’t fix it Dean, I know you want to, but this one? You can’t fix this one,” pointing at his chest for the last few words. Smoke bubbled from his mouth as he spoke, rubbing their noses together. He liked how it felt, and normal personal space rules were kinda out the window right now in his way-too-high state of mind.

Dean breathed in the offered smoke, closing his eyes briefly to savor it and pressing slightly into Sam’s hand. “Let me try,” Dean said. “That’s what I’m here for.” Dean tightened his grip on the back of Sam’s neck, pulling back slightly so he could meet Sam’s eye. “Just tell me what’s wrong, Sammy. You don’t have to mention names or specifics, just tell me. Hell, if I gotta kill someone, I will. Nobody hurts my little brother.”

 “It’s no one’s fault. Unless you wanna go beat up dad,” he insisted, closing his eyes and enjoying the hand in his hair. “It’s you Dean. It’s you. You’re the problem,” he whispered “but not like that. Not how you’re thinking,” he knew his brother would be racking his brain for any sharp edged comment he’d made or something he’d done. Keeping his eyes closed, he took another drag, before saying “I love you Dean. In love with you”, smoke pouring from his mouth. He waited for the revulsion, the swearing and pushing and disgust. But it was okay, because he was leaving tomorrow. Leaving this place.

Sam was right – Dean couldn’t go beat up their Dad. For one thing, John would kick Dean’s ass to Hell and back again. Dean simply respected their father too much to do anything to hurt him, not matter how pissed off Dean was at him sometimes. Dean started when he heard the rest of Sam’s words and knew his mouth had fallen open in shock. His little brother was in love with him? The same little brother who looked disgusted at the idea of their lips touching while shot gunning? Hell, the only reason Dean had suggested it in the first place was to steal almost kisses to sate his inappropriate fixation with Sam.

Dean pulled back slightly, taking a long drag from his joint as he watched Sam, searching his eyes to see if he was being serious. Dean didn’t see any mocking on Sam’s face, and the look in those brown eyes was scarily intense. Dean pursed his lip, considering his options. He really should tell Sam that it was wrong – they were brothers. But seriously, after everything they had seen and done in their lifetimes, this was barely a blemish on their record. Coming to a decision, Dean set his joint down on a rock and caught Sam’s face with both hands, dragging Sam forward so that Dean could kiss him hard on the lips.

 “MMM!” Sam shrieked in surprise, but it was muffled by the mouth on his. Opening his eyes, he looked straight into those greengreen eyes, and saw determination. So after a moment, he simply relaxed, and kissed him back. One of his hands lazily came up to brush along Dean’s cheekbone, closing his eyes and drinking in his brother. Stroking along his cheekbones, the other hand came up to paw at his chest, wanting a little more. His brother’s lips felt perfect against his own, and he never wanted it to end. Sam wasn’t really together enough to question why it was happening, why Dean would do this, he just went with it.

Dean felt Sam initially stiffen against him, and was slightly relieved when he felt Sam relax. Sam tasted like lake water and weed, but Dean didn’t really care. He parted his lips, sliding his tongue across Sam’s teeth as he pressed closer. At the back of his mind he couldn’t help but wonder if this was just some weed induced hallucination. It felt real enough; Sam felt real enough. Dean knew he really shouldn’t be doing this and that their Dad would probably shoot them both if he found out, but at this moment Dean really couldn’t care.

Sam moaned into his mouth, opening up for him willingly. The smoke was lingering in his brother’s mouth, and it tasted amazing. Pressing his body closer, one leg came up to wrap around Dean’s hip lazily, not really paying attention to what he was doing. _Please be real_. Sliding his tongue into Dean’s mouth, he gripped his brother silky hair, nudging him closer. He wanted more. Needed it. Needed to make this last day absolutely perfect, even if he was just imagining.

Dean couldn’t help the soft groan as Sam let him in. Dean shifted, changing the angle of the kiss so that he could lick deeper into Sam’s mouth. He could feel a giddy pleasure bubbling up inside him – part drugs, part elation – as he kissed Sam. He didn’t want to stop, but unfortunately there was a need to breathe. Dean pulled back, gasping at the air. He glanced around them quickly, noting it was getting dark. He swallowed, then grinned as a thought occurred to him. “Hey Sammy, when was the last time we went skinny dipping? Been too long if you ask me.” He nodded toward the lake. “You wanna?”

Sam pouted when Dean’s mouth pulled away from him, reaching for him blindly. “Oh my god” he giggled, looking up at his brother “are you serious?” Still giggling, he looked down at the water, then at himself. He was still kinda wet, and his jeans felt kinda gross. But he was still self-conscious, “no way, Dean! No, oh my gosh, no way. You’re gonna have to force me in there if you want me to swim! Especially not naked” he exclaimed. Sam didn’t like his body, and didn’t feel good enough for Dean, the freaking Calvin-Klein model.

 “Deadly serious.” Dean picked up his joint, chuckling. “Breathe deep, strip off, jump in.” Dean raised his own joint to his lips, taking a decent lungful. He stubbed it out and set it aside to finish later as he stood, not even feeling an inch of self-consciousness as he began to strip off his clothes. He noted Sam wasn’t following and prodded him in the shoulder with his toe. “C’mon Sammy. It’s not like anything is going to swim up your dick out there. This isn’t the Amazon. Besides,” Dean threw him a wink as he pulled off his underwear. “Not like I haven’t seen you naked before. Guess who stripped you off and washed you down after that last run-in with Casper the ectoplasm flinging ghost last month.” He tossed Sam a wink. “So, you going to strip or do I have to do it for you. Again.”

Sam watched Dean strip, mesmerized by his clothes sliding off smooth skin. Carefully getting to his feet, he took a few more quick drags of his joint, finishing it, before dropping it on the ground. “Dude that’s gross, I don’t want that mental image” he complaining, trying to rid the Amazon pictures from his brain. That wink should have been illegal. Grinning back, he held out his arms to him and announced “strip me” in the cheekiest voice he could manage.

Dean had secretly been hoping Sam would say that, and he reached for the button of Sam’s jeans without hesitation. “Well, you’ve already half done the job for me,” Dean said, grabbing at the waist of the jeans and tugging. He frowned. “You know you’re meant to strip into your shorts before you go swimming right? Because you might as well glue your jeans to your legs if you’re going to swim in them.” He yanked at the fabric, slowly moving it over Sam’s hips. Even though the jeans were at least one size too large, they were clinging tightly to Sam’s lanky teenaged limbs. Dean chewed his lip. “Think we almost need some lubricant here.” He pulled hard, managing to get them down to Sam’s knees. He contemplated asking Sam to step out of them before he started on the underwear, but he knew it wouldn’t take much for Sam to chicken out once he started sobering up. Dean grabbed the hem of Sam’s briefs and sent them down his legs to join his jeans. “You’ve got to do the rest here, baby boy.”

Sam watched his brother’s skilled fingers open his jeans with an amused grin on his face. Hell that must be difficult to do. Then his brother announced they needed lube and he lost it, doubling over and giggling like a mad man, leaning into Dean’s shoulder. His jeans were around his ankles now and he was trying to tell his brother to stop, he’d just go swimming in his underwear, but he was laughing too hard to speak. Then all of a sudden they were off too, pooling around his feet on the grass, and he sobered up pretty quick. “Dean oh my god don’t look at me!” he freaked, hand coming up to cover his brothers eyes. Awkwardly stepping out of his jeans, he then decided that wasn’t a good idea, it would be harder to get re-dressed and keep one hand over his brother’s eyes at the same time.

Dean reached out and caught Sam’s hand, squeezing his arm reassuringly. “Sammy, I’ve seen it all before.” He leaned close, brushing his lips softly against Sam’s. “Just so you know, for your age, you’re packing more heat than most guys. Don’t hide it; flaunt it.” He let go of Sam’s arm, stepping away and slapping him lightly on the naked behind. “Race you to the water.”

Sam closed his eyes and kisses him back, but didn’t feel any better about the situation. Then Dean was slapping his butt, and he yelped in surprise, “Dean!? What the hell?!” Not making a move to go anywhere, he answered “are you kidding, I can hardly stand up straight, I can’t run!” awkwardly half trying to cover himself. making his way to the water as quick as he could. He got in past his waist, and then relaxed, knowing Dean couldn’t see him now. “Dean that was so not fair!” he accused, shooting him a glare, blushing furiously.

Dean didn’t fair much better than Sam as he rushed to the water, almost tripping over his own feet more times than he’d care to admit too. He made it in just before Sam, slipping on the mud and going under momentarily before he managed to regain his footing, his amulet warm against his naked chest. He grinned at Sam’s protests. “That’s the fun of it, Sammy. Next time we get high I’ll take you out shooting cans off a fence with a cap gun. Or even harder, build a house of cards. I can never get the first pyramid to stay up.” Dean waded over to Sam, the water feeling good against his hypersensitive skin, although he could feel the tug on his balance towards the left. “Seriously though Sam, your body is nothing to be ashamed of.” He grinned and winked. “I like it.”

Sam was still giggling from Dean’s tumble as he waded over to him, slapping him on the chest and calling him a flirt and a liar. He thought of the house of cards Dean had tried to make once. He’d gotten really annoyed, and eventually, he’d gotten Dad’s superglue from the trunk and glued them to each other. Should have seen his grin. “Still shoulda let me keep my boxers on,” he persisted, taking a few steps deeper into the lake, just to make sure he was completely hidden. Beckoning with his finger, he teased his brother. 

Dean couldn’t help rolling his eyes at Sam’s attitude. Negativity was Dean’s job; Sam’s was to bitch at Dad while being the optimist. Dean could still remember when he was 16, how he had felt awkward in his body as he hit one growth spurt after another. It had taken a girl at one of his previous schools dragging him behind to bike shed and going down on him to convince him that maybe things weren’t so bad after all. Pursing his lips thoughtfully, a plan bubbled into Dean’s mind. He chuckled, moving toward where Sam was beckoning before diving under the water where Sam couldn’t see him.

For a second Dean wondered if it were such a good idea as he was high enough to have trouble telling up from down, but he was determined to reach his goal. He managed to swim around behind Sam, peeking over the surface at his brother before launching himself up and latching himself onto Sam’s back. He wrapped both arms around Sam’s shoulders and hooked his legs around Sam’s waist, laughing.

“C’mon, Sammy. You keep growing you’re going to be taller than me.” He nipped at Sam’s ear with his teeth. “You’re stronger than adults. I bet once you’re my age you could lift me up, my legs around your waist while you do me against the wall. Sound good to you, baby boy?”

Sam gasped as his brother suddenly disappeared underwater. Where the hell was he going, was he even going to resurface? He was too high for this, they both were. Then Dean was jumping onto his back, and he only just managed to keep balanced, holding onto his brother at the same time. The water was holding basically all of Dean’s weight, but he’d been unprepared. “Oh my god Dean” he exclaimed, curling in on himself slightly, the teeth on his ear and that comment… He felt his cock stirring, but he willed it away. Now was so not the time to get hard, that would get awkward real fast. Besides, his brother was joking. Right? “Dean, you freak, what are you even doing on me?” he laughed, willing the nerves away. 

“Relax, Sammy.” Dean let himself drop backwards off Sam’s back into the water, floating for a bit looking up at the stars. He sighed heavily, raising his head to look at his brother. ‘Seriously, do I need to bend you over and remove the stick out of your ass? Just go with it. That’s the whole point of getting high.” He straightened, feet once again touching the bottom. “I mean, come on. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. I know I have.”

 “Oh my gosh, Dean. That is so gross” he complained, shaking his head at him. Looking down at the water, he awkwardly whispered “of course I have, De. Used to think about it every night before I went to bed”. Not believing he just said that, he took a step forward, leant down, and captured Dean’s face between his hands. Kissing him, one hand slid down his body until it rested just below a hipbone. Sam’s fingers were light, teasing. He was trying to make up for being such a downer. The buzz was still there, he’d just been trying to ignore it for the last few minutes. But now he let it back in, allowing himself to smile lazily against his brother’s mouth.

Now that’s better, Dean thought. Dean caught Sam behind the head with one hand, sure that Sam would freak out at any moment and wanting to hold him in place. Dean stepped closer, kissing Sam back and trying to express to him that Sam’s feelings were returned. His free hand came down along Sam’s chest, tracing his collarbone and down his sternum before coming back up to tease one nipple.

Dean could feel panic building at the back of his mind, scared that Sam was going to try and run away from this. It was hard to keep it in check, Dean having issues controlling his feelings while the weed still circulated through his system. He brought both hands down, grabbing Sam under the thighs and hoisting him up so Sam’s knees were on either side of his waist, Dean wrapping one arm around Sam’s back to keep him flush against him while the other shifted under Sam’s ass like a seat. Dean broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Sam’s as he gazed into his eyes. “Don’t you freak out on me, Sammy. I’ve wanted this for a long time. Don’t you run away now, baby boy.”

Sam kept smiling, leaning into the kiss. Then Dean’s hands were on him, trailing down his chest, and it felt amazing, like silk. His brother’s hand moved to his nipple and he gasped, hand on Dean stilling. Closing his eyes, he savored the feel of it, still kissing his brother. But then all of a sudden he was being picked up, like a child, hoisted onto Dean’s waist.

“Dean! What! Oh my god” he yelped, quickly wrapping his arms around his neck to make sure he wouldn’t fall off. “Freaking out” he replied quickly, “freaking out” He buried his face into the curve of his brother’s shoulder, not believing what was actually happening. Breathing into his shoulder for a good twenty seconds, he let out a small giggle. Look at the position he was in. Then a few more giggles poured out, and then he was hysterically laughing, unable to stop.

After a minute or two, it subsided, and he simply kissed Dean. He didn’t try to get down, just stayed wrapped around his brother, naked. In a lake. Hell that was funny. His mood swings were getting a little crazy. But he guessed he was generally stable now, having gotten the laughter out of his system. Gripping Dean’s hair, he parted his lips, inviting him inside.

Dean simply held Sam while he laughed. The downside to being high – raw emotions were quadrupled. Dean closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Sam’s shoulder as he waited for his brother to get over the giggles, Dean still unsure where Sam was going to take this. At least Sam hadn’t tried to get free, and Dean took that as a positive. Then Sam was kissing him again, and Dean let out a soft noise of relief.

He took Sam’s invitation, kissing him deep and inviting Sam with a flick of his tongue to return the favor. Dean relished Sam’s hands in his hair, his body pressed so close, the water surrounding them like a wet blanket. It was better than any wet dream he’d had; better than any fantasy he’d conjured up in the shower while jerking off. And he was pretty damned sure that it was real.

Sam kept kissing him, one hand in his hair, while the other trailed down his chest. He was serious about this, but he wasn’t nervous. He was just going with it. Sliding his tongue into his mouth, he tasted the weed and also a taste that was just Dean. Hand sliding out of his hair, and wrapping around his neck, he crushed himself closer, needing more. Sam wasn’t sure hot convey that need, without taking his mouth off Dean, which he was not prepared to do right now.

Dean shifted Sam in his arms, trying to find some way to press their bodies closer together. He was fast coming to realize a major flaw in his plan – he needed both hands to keep Sam tight against his body. The frustration was building up inside him again along with wooziness from both the weed and lack of oxygen. He fought hard against it, but eventually it became too much as Dean began to lose his balance. He tried to widen his stance, only to find one of his feet slide into a hole and with a yelp he found himself falling backwards into the water, Sam coming down with him.

Sam shrieked in laughter, all of a sudden submerged in cool water. Quickly resurfacing, he reached down and pulled Dean up, holding him to his chest. “You’re a freak, you know that, right?” he teased, still giggling. Taking his brother’s hand, he pulled him as he walked up the slight slope, until they were standing on grass. “Dean-o, you alright?” he asked, thinking he looked a little flustered. Sam entirely forgot about the fact that he had no clothes on.

Sam’s laughter was infectious, and Dean soon found himself giggling in a rather unmanly fashion as far as he was concerned. He let Sam lead him out of the water, still a little wobbly on his feet. “Just wounded my pride,” he told Sam, running his free hand through his hair as he shot a quick glare back at the water. He let out a long breath, trying to cool his emotions that were somewhere between amusement and raw panic, even though he didn’t have a clue as to why he was panicking. He hated that about being high – was probably the only thing he hated about it. He looked back at Sam. “You okay? Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Still giggling, Sam answered “no, I’m fine De, can we get back to kissing now?” in a teasing tone. Grabbing the back of his head, he pulled Dean forward until he was close enough to kiss, grabbing his waist with the other hand. Gazing into his eyes, still grinning, he said “I love you De”.

 “Love you too, Sammy-boy,” Dean said, brushing his lips against Sam’s. He frowned, swaying slightly on his feet. Definitely something laced through the weed. He never acted this out of it when stoned. “Now, enough chic flick moments.” He dropped down onto the grass, catching Sam’s arm and pulling him down with him and dragging Sam onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around his little brother, brushing his nose against Sam’s before kissing him.

Letting out a little shriek of surprise when he was all of a sudden pulled to the ground, Sam let himself be pulled onto Dean’s lap, wrapping his arms around his brother’s neck instantly. He kissed him back with enthusiasm, opening his mouth and coaxing the same answering response. Hands slid into Dean’s hair, gently tugging and kneading at it. He was acutely aware of the fact that he could feel his brothers cock pressed up against his ass, and tried to keep the threatening hard-on away. 

Dean made an involuntary happy sound at the back of his throat as Sam kissed him. Dean began to explore Sam’s body with his hands, fingers and palm sliding over wet skin. He noted that Sam needed to eat more given how his ribs protruded, and Dean loved the little twitches and tremors in response to his touch.

He knew Sam wasn’t a virgin – he’d caught him a couple of times in compromising positions with a date – just as Dean wasn’t a virgin. But this was something completely different. There’d be no loving them and leaving them here. This was going to require a level of commitment Dean had never experience before, and he was slightly surprised to find he was okay with that. He laughed against Sam’s mouth, catching Sam’s thighs and pulling at them until Sam was straddling him while never breaking the kiss. 

Breaking away, legs wrapped around his brothers waist, he asked “how far are we taking this”, breathing heavy. Shifting onto of him, he ground down against him a little, moaning at the friction. He was hard now, and for that he was sorry, but it was inevitable. “De” he panted, burying his face in his shoulder.

Dean’s hands slid down to rest on Sam’s hips, Dean chewing his lip to try and hold back the moan as Sam ground down into him. One hand came up to rest on the back of Sam’s neck as Dean turned his head, nuzzling Sam’s damp hair.  “I’ll go as far as you’re comfortable with, Sammy. I’m open to absolutely anything.”

 “I need you” he answered quickly, before capturing his lips again, pushing him back onto the grass until Dean was simply lying down, Sam straddling his hips. Kissing down his neck, he moaned into his brother’s skin, softly biting occasionally to keep him on his toes. Sam’s hands wandered up his chest, and down to his hip, light and teasing, wanting some encouragement. He wasn’t nervous or reserved anymore, thank god, it had taken long enough.

Dean felt his breath catch in his throat at those words. They weren’t the first time he’d ever heard them directed at him, but hearing them coming from Sam… if he wasn’t already hard, Dean knew that would have gotten his dick’s full attention. Dean let Sam manhandle him onto the ground, Dean bringing one knee up and pressing his thigh into Sam’s groin. Dean let his head fall back onto the ground, bliss rolling through his body. Yet another thing he liked about being high – it made sex that much more intense. His massaged the back of Sam’s neck, smiling. “You got me, baby boy.”

Sam huffed, grinding down slightly into Dean’s knee. Shifting down his body further, his mouth traveled along his stomach, to mouth at the inside of his hip bone, less defined than his own, but still jutting out a little, like it should. “De… Can I…” he breathed, hot breath washing over his skin, dangerously close to his cock. Knowing his brother would understand his meaning, he waited, fingers running up the insides of his thigh.

Dean couldn’t have suppressed the moan even if he wanted too. Sam’s words sent a shudder through him, Dean reaching down and cupping Sam’s face in his hands, tracing a thumb over Sam’s beautiful lips. He explored Sam’s face with his eyes as he hooked his free leg over Sam’s back, feeling a desperate need to have Sam as close as he could and still slightly afraid Sam would flee at any moment. “Yeah, Sammy. You can.”

Sam groaned, closing his eyes, at the leg wrapping around him, pressing him down into his brother. Quickly grabbing that thumb between his lips, he sucked on it, keeping his eyes locked with Dean, before letting it go and moving his head back down. Licking a thick stripe from base to tip, he then kissed the head gently, going back down and mouthing at his balls. Sam made sure to let his hot breath wash over his skin as much as possible, knowing how it felt from experience. The little flings he’d had were nice, but nothing had ever come close to his fantasies of Dean, ever. Taking the head into his mouth, he swirled his tongue over the tip, teasing and lazy. He was doing this because it felt good, not because it was expected of him or anything. It wasn’t even completely for Dean; it was for himself as well.

When Sam sucked on his thumb Dean groaned, that hot, wet mouth everything he’d imagined. Then when Sam’s mouth finally made it to his cock, it took every inch of his concentration to keep from thrusting up between those gorgeous lips. “Fuck,” Dean moaned, the hand that had been on Sam’s neck quickly tangling itself in the long strands of Sam’s hair. Dean bit his lower lip, concentrating on the feeling of Sam going down on him.

Sam had an idea, and abruptly pulled off Dean’s cock, patting him when he heard that upset noise. Quickly reaching over to the rock with the pot on it, still in between his brother’s legs, he quickly rolled a joint, and lit it. Taking a long slow drag, eyes locked with Deans, he leant down and carefully breathed it out, letting the thick smoke drag over his brother’s stomach. Watching it curl and caress him, and took another drag, held it in his mouth, and took the tip of his cock into his mouth. The warm smoke surrounded his head, and Sam hoped it felt good, he’d have to make Dean to it to him, he’d never thought of anything like this before. Then all of a sudden he took his brother right down to the base, sucking him like a porn star, smoke still in his mouth. Breathing it out of his nose, it washed over the base before rising up and disappearing. Fuck that was hot.

Dean watched Sam curiously when he reached for the pot and rolled another joint. He couldn’t help but wonder if Sam was bored already, and then when Sam went down on him with the smoke in his mouth. It burned, the heat tingling hotly on the over-sensitive skin and causing Dean to almost recoil backward. His eyes widened as Sam deep throated him, and Dean resisted the urge to ask his brother just where he had learnt to do that. Dean knew that Sam had been with girls, but guys? He didn’t know his brother as well as he thought he did. He reached out to the side, deciding he wasn’t nearly high enough if he was thinking about this sort of thing. He grabbed his half used joint and put it between his lips, gesturing to Sam to toss him the lighter.

Sam absentmindedly tossed him the lighter, still concentrating on going down on him. Running his hand up the insides of his thighs, one hand slipped a little lower, ghosting over his perineum, just testing the waters. He had one hell of a night last night, and it had opened his eyes to a few new things. He was going slow on his cock, just making it feel good, not trying to get him off as quick as possible. Closing his eyes, he started to hum, knowing the vibrations would feel even better.

Dean caught the lighter easily, lighting up his joint and tossing the lighter back next to the bag of pot. He took a long drag, the mix of the fresh weed combined with Sam going down on him was… ‘heaven’ was the only word that could fit the situation. He let out a long breath, watching the smoke disappear into the air. He hooked his legs over Sam’s shoulders, tugging him closer. “Dammit Sammy, you’re far too good at this.” He put the joint back to his lips and started inhaling just as Sam started humming, causing Dean to breathe in too sharply. He choked, gasping. “Fuck!” He raised himself up on his elbows, staring down at Sam with wide eyes and trying to fight back the need to cum so soon.

Sam wanted to smile at the legs wrapping around him, liking how he was encased, but his mouth was currently a little busy. Sam watched Dean’s reaction, and laughed around his cock, probably giving him even more vibrations. Still giggling, he moved his mouth up and down the length, fingers still exploring. Sam wanted to know if he’d ever done it, with a guy… If he’d ever had anything up there. He should be thinking that these thoughts were disgusting, but he was too high for that. All he knew was that he wanted to get his fingers in there. Wrong? Yeah. Hot? Fuck yes.

 “S’not funny, bitch,” Dean growled, flicking a finger against Sam’s forehead. He dropped back down, taking another long drag on the joint. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of Sam’s fingers and tongue. A thought occurred to him, causing him to chuckle. Sitting back up, he looked down at his brother with raised eyebrows. “Ever 69ed, baby boy?”

Sam kept laughing for a few more seconds, just to spite him. He choked in surprise at the question, having to pull off his cock. “What? Um, no. I don’t know if that’s my thing, Dean” he said, leaning down to mouth at the base of his cock. “There are plenty of other things that I wanna try though?” he breathed, licking and nuzzling at the base. 

 “What? You don’t like mutual pleasure?” Dean said, swallowing hard as he watched what Sam was doing. He licked his lips, wanting to get his own mouth on Sam’s cock. He wanted to see what weed mixed with Sam’s precum tasted like, with a side of lingering lake water. He took a long drag on the joint, blowing a smoke ring down toward where Sam was. Dean had managed to regain some control back over his body. He sat up, leaning forward and catch Sam’s jaw and lifting him up so that he could kiss him. “What do you have in mind?”

Sam closed his eyes as the smoke ring hit him in the face, breaking up and disappearing slowly. It reminded him of his own joint. “What I had in mind…” he laughed, crawling up his brothers body, kissing his way up his chest. “What I had in mind… Was fucking you. Right here” he whispered, lips against Dean’s ear now, voice husky from smoke and going down on him. He had no idea what the answer would be, and they didn’t have any lube anyway. But he just wanted to say it, get it out, see the reaction. 

Dean closed his eyes, listening to Sam’s voice. A shudder shook its way through his body as he wrapped one arm around Sam’s waist and let his fingers slide over the skin. He took another long drag on his joint, holding it for a long moment before slowly letting it out. “I see.” He set the joint down on a rock before reaching down and closing his fingers around Sam’s cock, slowly stroking it as Dean turned his head to brush his lips against Sam’s. “I guess we’re going to need what’s in the back pocket of my jeans.”

Sam let out a soft moan, Dean’s hand all of a sudden stroking his cock. “De…” he breathed, placing both of his hands on his brother chest, trying to ground himself. “What’s… What’s in your back pocket?” he asked, lips brushing against Dean’s mouth as he spoke. He still had his joint in between his fingers, just sitting there, so he brought it up to his lips and took a drag, trying to steady himself. The hand stroking his cock wasn’t so easy to ignore.

Dean smirked, thumbing the head of Sam’s cock before dragging the precum down and along the sensitive underside. Dean caught Sam’s lower lip between his teeth, nibbling on it teasingly. “You’ll just have to go look and find out,” Dean said. He took another long drag on his joint, holding it in his mouth and pressing his lips to his brother’s.

Sam whimpered, bottom lip caught, and his brother stroking the most sensitive part of his cock. “You’re so mean to me” he whined as his lip was free, leaning over to grab Dean’s pants and rifle through the pockets. “Haha! Got it on the first try!” he exclaimed, gripping the thing inside. Pulling it out, he shifted up Dean’s body until he was practically straddling his chest. Tossing the pants back over to the general pile of clothes, he turned back to his brother. He opened his hand and looked inside. Raising his eyebrows, he looked down at Dean, surprised as hell. “Whaaaatt?? Why would you have this?” he asked, eyebrows pinching in confusion.

Dean leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on the bottom of Sam’s neck. He laughed at Sam’s exclamation, Dean bringing his lips to the side of Sam’s neck and nipping and sucking at the skin, trying to find a spot where Sam was sensitive. As well as he knew his brother, this was a whole new level of knowing and Dean was enjoying the chance to explore. “You’d be surprised how many uses it has,” he said, lips against the skin of Sam’s shoulder, his hand slipping down to cup Sam’s balls and squeezing lightly. “KY comes in very handy when you’re t trying to pick an old lock that’s rusted shut.”

Sam gasped when Dean’s mouth found a dip, just underneath his ear. That was it; that was his spot. Then his lips slid down his shoulder, and he whined, wanting them to keep paying attention to that spot. But then his balls were being touched, and he cried out, the feeling unexpected. Leaning down over his brother, he buried his face in the curve of his shoulder. 

Dean grinned, focusing on that spot. He nipped at the skin, then pressed his tongue into it and drew slow circles over it before placing an opened mouthed kiss on it. He contemplated marking Sam but decided it would take too much time and focus right now – that’d be something for another day when they weren’t both stoned. Maybe he’d be able to convince Sam to stretch out naked on the bed while Dean explored every inch of him with his mouth; kissing, biting and sucking every exposed piece of skin he could find. Dean shuddered at the thought, pulling back to pressed his lips to Sam’s hard and licking into his mouth as he dragged his fingertips along Sam’s cock teasingly.

Sam started panting just the tiniest bit, but he tried to hide it from Dean, not show how much he liked that spot. It was a vulnerability, one that he might take advantage of. Then those lips moved back to his own and he sighed into his mouth in relief. That spot was too good it was driving him crazy, this was much more comfortable. But then Dean’s hand was stroking his cock, and that went out the window. “De… Dean,” he whispered, breaking away just for a moment, “De-more-please.” 

Dean hummed happily at Sam’s comments, loving the fact he was bringing Sam undone with his touch. He caught Sam around the waist, rolling them over so that Dean was resting between Sam’s legs. Dean began to lick and suck his way down Sam’s body, finding a nipple and catching it between his teeth and tugging gently. He tightened his grip on Sam’s cock, stroking slowly and firmly, adding the occasional twist to his rhythm and sliding his thumb over the tip at the end of each upstroke. “Love your body, Sammy,” Dean whispered, blowing on the damp nipple before closing his lips over it and teasing the bud with his tongue and feeling it harden.

Sam sucked in a gasp, tensing up as Dean rolled them over. Arching his back, he let out a little moan, Dean’s teeth abusing one of his nipples. “De, De, please!” he panted, almost not getting the words out as his brothers hand started moving more firmly on his cock. “Ughh” he groaned, listening to Dean’s husky voice “I don’t,” he breathed. Then he was blowing on his nipple, and he had to bite his lip, keep the sounds from spilling out. Hot little needy sounds. Wrapping his legs around his brother’s waist, he pulled him in closer, needing more.

 “You should,” Dean said, moving up to press a kiss on Sam’s lips. “Gorgeous little pouty lips.” He kissed Sam’s eyelids. “Beautiful brown eyes.” He moved down Sam’s body, kissing his shoulders. “Strong shoulders.” He continued to move, kissing each body part as he mentioned it. “Perky little nipples. Abs most guys would kill for. Great hips. Strong thighs.” He slid both his hands behind Sam to clasp his ass. “An ass you can bounce a nickel off.” He licked his lips, looking up toward Sam as he leaned down. “And a cock guys would sell their souls for.” Dean closed his lips around the tip, tongue tracing over the slit and savoring the salty taste and groaning with pleasure. He grinned, slowly sliding his lips down and taking more of Sam’s cock into his mouth, tongue pressed against the sensitive underside.

Sam closed his eyes and listened, savoring Dean’s touches and kisses. “De!” he yelped, strong hands gripping his ass all of a sudden, tipping his hips a little. Then Dean’s mouth was on him, those plush lips looked absolutely perfect stretched around him, like it’s what they were made for. “Dean-PLEASE” he panted, it was too good and not enough. “Please please” Sam begged, words coming out like a prayer.

 “You like this, don’t you Sammy,” Dean said, pulling his lips from Sam’s cock to mouth along the underside. “Like my mouth on your cock. I love the way you taste, baby boy. Been thinking about this forever.” He dragged his tongue from base to tip, hands spreading Sam’s butt cheeks as Dean wriggled and pressed his chest hard into the ground. “Love your perfect little balls.” He closed his mouth over one, sucking it into his mouth and spending some time moistening it before pulling away. “Been thinking about that pretty little hole of yours.” He lifted Sam’s body slightly, bending him so he could gain access and licking his way along Sam’s crack and pressing his tongue flat against the hole. “Dreamed about this, Sammy. Fucking you with my tongue.” With that he kissed the hole before pressing the tip of his tongue in, and with each lick he began to slowly stretch Sam open, pressing his tongue in further and further and groaning with pleasure.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to buck up into him. Then Dean’s mouth was on his balls, and he cried out, hands ripping out the grass out around him. Sam’s hips were being lifted, and he didn’t mind, just threw his head back and balled his hands into fists. Then his tongue was pressing at his hole, and he cried out again, begging “Dean! Dean Dean Dean oh god please-please,” voice coming out desperate. Being stretched open by his brother’s tongue was fucking perfect, and he decided that this was all he wanted for his birthday. And Christmas. And… Every day in between. But then he remembered that he was going tomorrow, and that he had to make this perfect. Reaching down, he fisted Dean’s hair, kneading his fingers through it and committing its feel to memory.

Dean watched Sam’s face and Dean couldn’t help but grind his hips into the ground, instantly wincing. Grass and rocks hurt. Dean made a mental note that next time they’d do this on a bed and he’d try and find out just how flexible Sam was. He pressed his tongue in as deep as he could, then he began to fuck Sam with his rigid tongue, keeping the muscle taunt as he listened to the sounds Sam was making. He wrapped his arms around Sam’s thighs and set Sam’s legs over his shoulders.

Sam’s hips jerked, and his mouth spewed all kinds of pleads, moans, and little whines. “De…. De, please. Fuck me!” he begged, fingernails digging into the soil. He’d have to scrub the hell out of them to get them clean again, but he didn’t care. Sam instantly clamped his legs down on Dean’s shoulders, pushing his face in closer. He needed it, all of it, right now. Or he’d flip his brother over and sit on his cock.

Dean pulled his mouth free, reaching out for where Sam had dropped the lube. Grabbing it, Dean brought his mouth back to Sam’s cock, nipping lightly at the underside. Dean easily pulled the cap off the small tube, slicking up a couple of his fingers before he recapped the tube and set it aside. He wrapped his non-lubed hand around the base of Sam’s cock, taking the tip back into his mouth. He rested a lubed finger against Sam’s hole, pressing it in slowly.

Sam gasped at the coolness, but pressed down on his finger, biting his lip. It felt great, so good, but it still wasn’t Dean’s cock. He was needy, and acting kinda slutty, but he didn’t care. “Dean, please! Please please,” he pleaded with him, tossing his head to the side and panting, hot breath making the grass move.

Dean slowly took Sam’s cock deeper into his mouth, relaxing his throat. It’d taken a lot of practice on fruit over the years, but Dean had learnt to suppress his gag reflex and right now he was glad as he deep throated his brother. He swallowed around Sam’s cock, then began to drag his lips back toward the tip as he inserted a second finger into his brother, scissoring them. Another thing Dean liked about pot – it was so much easier to loosen someone up. He pressed his fingers in deep, and as he reached the top of Sam’s cock and teased the tip with his tongue, Dean twisted his fingers and pressed them into Sam’s prostate.

Sam just had to lie there, writhing and panting. “Dean,” he moaned, trying not to thrust up into his skilled mouth. If he wasn’t so turned on, or so high, he might have asked where he learnt to do that. But he _was_ high, and his cock was leaking steadily into Dean’s mouth. Maybe if he wasn’t so high, and turned on, he would be thinking about his plan for tomorrow. Maybe he would be reconsidering. Maybe he would be trying to convince himself that he should stay, just stay and be with Dean. But he _was_ high, so those thoughts just came and went in a second. Two fingers were great, but his brother’s cock was better. Dean’s mouth in him was almost painfully good, he was teasing and skilled, even better than Sam maybe. 

Dean pressed a third finger in, noting how easily he was able to press it inside. He deep throated his brother once more, enjoying the taste that was pure Sam. It was much better than he had ever thought it would be, and he was going to make sure he definitely had the chance to taste it again. Maybe he would even be able to convince Sam that 69ing wasn’t such a bad idea – Sam going down on him as he went down on Sam.

Dean pulled his fingers free as he began dragging his lips along Sam’s length, Dean reaching once more for the lube. He pulled off the cap, placing a fair dollop onto his fingers before recapping the little tube and putting it out of the way. He spread the lube over his cock as he pulled his lips from Sam’s cock, kissing his way back up Sam’s body and pressing his lips into Sam’s neck. “Gonna fuck you, Sammy. Gonna fuck you nice and slow until you can’t even remember your name. Want that, baby boy?”

Dean’s lips dragging along his cock was not okay. Not in any stretch of the imagination. “Oh my god,” he groaned, arching his back. He could hardly keep himself on the ground, just wanted to flip them over and ride his brother. Lips on his neck, the words hit him like a slap. “GOD. Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean-yes. Please!” he begged, trying to grind up into him. “Please!” he repeated, exposing more of his neck for his brother to attack. God, he needed this. Needed it over and over again. “Need you,” he choked out, chest moving up and down in a broken rhythm, hands practically digging holes in the ground. 

Dean pressed a kiss to the underside of Sam’s jaw, catching hold of Sam’s thighs and hooking them around his waist. With one hand he guided himself to Sam’s hole, pressing the tip in carefully. He began to slowly thrust, and with each one he pressed a little deeper into his brother. He closed his eyes, groaning. “So tight, Sammy. So fucking tight. Love the feel of you on my cock. So fucking hot.”

Sam locked his legs around him, pulling his body closer. He felt the tip press against him and gasped, ripping some more grass. Reaching down, he stopped Dean’s slow build-up, and yanked his hips towards him, bottoming him out instantly. Letting out a little cry, he tightened his grip on his brother’s hips, just needing to feel him inside for moment. Sliding his hands up slowly, he felt Dean’s waist, the sides of his chest, the bulge of his shoulders, then the smooth curve of his neck. Closing his eyes, he let his eyes fall closed, listening to his brother’s words. His mouth and voice were made to talk dirty, teasing and rough.

Dean began to slowly thrust, moaning at the slide of his cock inside of Sam’s body. He’d pull back until only the tip was barely inside, then press back in with a smooth stroke. He shifted, trying to find that sweet spot deep inside Sam. “Fuck, baby boy. Love seeing you like this, spread wide open on my cock.” He leaned down, nipping at the sensitive spot just below Sam’s ear that he’d found earlier. “Dreamt about this. Dreamt about fucking you slow.” He placed an open mouthed kiss on the spot. “Dreamt about you bending me over the front of the Impala, fucking me hard until I come all over the hood.” He sucked at the spot, then brought his lips to Sam’s ear, grinning. “Dreamt about pressing our cocks together, stroking them until we come and we can’t make a sound because Dad’s asleep in the next bed.”

 “Oh god,” he moaned, Dean’s attention turned to that spot. “Fuck! You did? Really?” he panted, imagining Dean touching himself at night, thinking all of those dirty things, just like he had. His lips moved to his ear, eliciting another moan. “God Dean…” he groaned, pulling him down further, pressing their chests together. This was killing him, the image of his brother, just one bed over, thinking about him. Fucking him, getting fucked  _by_ him, it was just too good. “More. Tell me more please! Need to know,” he whispered, lips so close to his ear. 

Dean laughed, shifting so he could slide even deeper into Sam. He pressed all the way in, making a slow circling movement with his hips before pulling almost all the way out and pressing in again to repeat the motion. “Remember that day you convinced Dad to get us those ice creams sundaes at that diner in Chapman, Kansas? How the ice cream melted so fast it kept running down your chin. I wanted to reach across the table and lick it off you. Didn’t even care Dad was there. Got so hard watching you.” He thrust up hard once, placing a soft kiss on Sam’s lips. “How bout you, Sammy? What do you dream about?”

Sam had his eyes closed, still letting out little moans and sharp breaths, so deeply lost in the entire thing. Listening to his brother was pushing him dangerously close to the edge, remembering that day perfectly. It had been great, stress-free, just a kid with an ice cream and an awesome big brother. How he wished it could still be like that. “Ugh, oh god,” he moaned, that hard thrust hitting home. Trying again, he took in a deep breath and said “you. Just dream about you. Fucking me, real slow, grinding into me for hours. Dreamt about you holding me up, in some lake or river, fucking me hard. That’s why I freaked out before” in the smallest of voices. “Imagined riding you, in the backseat of the car, you lifting my hips up, forcing me down onto your cock. My hands in your hair, just holding on,” he finished, very surprised that he could talk that much while being fucked by Dean.

Dean groaned at Sam’s words, closing his eyes as he targeted that spot again and thrust up hard into it, holding himself there and grinding into that spot. “Tomorrow,” he groaned. “Tomorrow… I’ll fuck you in the lake.” He pressed a hand into Sam’s hair, kissing him. “When Dad gets back I’ll borrow the car.” He nipped at Sam’s lip. “Go for a drive. Me and you. I’ll let you ride me in the back seat. And then…” He groaned. feeling the sweat rolling down his back as he fought to keep himself from coming. “Then I want you to take me on the hood. Take me so hard I’ll think of it every time I sit down.” He pressed his forehead into Sam’s shoulder, letting out a shuddering breath. “What else, Sammy? Tell me, baby boy. Wanna make all your dreams come true.”

Arching his back, he let out another moan, trying to listen to what Dean was saying, but finding it hard. He was promising all his dreams, but they were all “tomorrow” which made him frown. It was gone pretty fast though, listening to him. Nodding furiously, he imagined Dean’s face, sitting down in some old ladies living room, being offered tea, while they asked her questions. Trying to keep his expression smooth, awkwardly shuffling on her terrible floral couch, remembering last night’s fuck in detail. That the best image ever.

Panting, he brought his hand up to his brother’s hair, threading through it, where he was pressed against his shoulder. “Uh… Uh…” he breathed, trying to form words while being grinded into. “I… I imagined waking you up in the morning, my mouth on your cock, seeing that cute slow blink that you do when you first wake up, looking down at me and grinning” he explained, smiling at the thought. “And… And you fucking me, bent over a table, hand in my hair, rough and perfect. Make me feel it for a week,” he was whispering at the end, too overcome with pleasure.

 “Dammit Sammy!” Dean’s fingers tightened in Sam’s hair for a moment before he regain control, the speed of his thrusts beginning to pick up as he found it harder and harder to maintain the slow pace. “Wanna sneak up on you when you’re geeking out in the library. Drag you into a dark corner and suck you while you have one fist in your mouth trying not to make a noise. Wanna tie you down and ride your cock. Wanna give you a handjob in the back seat of the car while Dad’s driving.” Dean pressed up hard into Sam’s sweet spot, now alternating between deep and shallow thrusts. “Wanna take you out for dinner and a movie, then bring you back to where we’re staying and make slow love to you all night.” Dean groaned, a feeling of desperation bubbling up in his chests as his hand came down from Sam’s hair to grip Sam’s arm tightly as he fought back the tears. “God Sammy, I need you. Need you so badly.”

 “FUCK” he yelled, throwing his head back, trying desperately not to come. He was being fucked harder, brother gliding over that perfect spot every time, and telling him his plans at the same time. Dean’s voice was like gravel and cream, and Sam should have gotten a medal for not letting himself come yet. Nodding, he moaned “yes, yes, please”, gripping onto his hair harder. Moving his hips, he grinded down onto Dean’s cock, practically being tortured here. Slow, slow love, god that was perfect. Opening his eyes, he looked up at Dean, and noticed his eyes were wet. “De? Dean? What’s wrong? De!” he asked, groping for his shoulders, trying to tip his face so he had to look at him. “Dean! Dean, are you okay?” he worried, stroking his cheeks, one hand coming up to brush his hair off that pretty forehead. Everything about him was pretty.

Dean didn’t answer, instead kissing Sam hard on the mouth. He knew the kiss was desperate, but he tried to fill it with as much love and admiration as he could. He clung to Sam, gripping him tightly as he kept pressing into him, rolling his hips at the end of each thrust. He was so close to coming now, the drugs sending him on a blissful wave of pleasure right on the edge of release. He could feel the tears on his cheeks and knew Sam could probably feel them too, but right now he didn’t’ care.

He loved his brother. He couldn’t imagine Sam never being there: the brother he’d carried out of the fire and practically raised alone. The brother he’d been fantasizing about inappropriately for nearly three years now. The brother, so beautiful, wrapped around him as he made love to him. Dean wanted this to last forever. Wished he could just take Sam and run away from everything, but he knew that no matter where they went the monsters in the shadows would always be there, dragging them back into hunting, and there was nothing Dean could do to stop it. So he just kissed Sam, wishing he could make it all better, even if only for this moment.

Sam kissed his back, kneading his fingers through his fine hair, trying to communicate that it was okay, everything’s okay. He didn’t even know what he was crying about, couldn’t think of anything. So he simply stroked and rubbed him, moaning into his mouth every now and then, pulling him closer with his legs. Fingers ran down his back, tracing his spine and shoulder blades, trying to make him feel loved. His hand slipped from Dean’s hair, to rest on his cheekbones, gently wiping away the tears. This was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen, and he was so lucky to have it, even if his brother was upset… This whole scene was perfect. Like nothing else.

Dean was so close to cumming now it was starting to get painful. He reached down, finger’s circling around Sam’s cock. He began to stroke him slow, keeping his movements gentle as Dean fought hard to maintain the slow pace to his own thrusts. He just wanted to grab Sam’s hips and bring it home, but this wasn’t what this was about. He wanted to let Sam know he was loved, how much he was needed. Dean kept kissing Sam for as long as he could, but the need to breathe combine with the need to cum was making it hard so he pulled back, simply gazing into Sam’s eyes.

Sam tried to keep still, that hand on him, loving him. “Dean,” he breathed, so quiet, so soft. He still didn’t understand, pot fuzzing up his thinking patterns. His hand still roamed his back, light and loving. He’d never felt happier than this moment, loved and adored. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever felt adored, or this loved. Sam had always felt like a spare part, another duffel of luggage that had to be driven around, just another frustrating thing to pack. Some weeks he didn’t eat, just stared out the window of the impala. But right now? Right now there was fire in his veins, this bliss spreading through him, like he was something beautiful. Something unique and amazing, so loved. Thanks to Dean. All thanks to Dean. It was always Dean. Stars were in his hair, shining, beautiful. He didn’t even stop to think about the fact that the pot had been laced, just gave into another hallucination.

It was almost too hard to keep the rhythm now, a slight stutter starting to make its way into Dean’s thrusts. He brushed his lips against Sam’s again, letting the kiss linger. He slid his hand to the tip of Sam’s cock, thumb playing through the leaking precum. He then slowly stroked back down, dragging his thumb along the underside as he ground up into Sam. “C’mon, baby boy.” Dean tried to smile but found it hard, tears still streaking his face. Sam was so beautiful below him, and Dean wanted this to last forever but knew it was impossible. “Cum for me, gorgeous.”

And Sam came. Came for his brother, hard. It was bliss. But sorrow. Because now he remembered. He remembered their conversation earlier, about Sam’s plans, Dean’s confession. He remembered all the times that Dean had looked at him, worried when he sat, unmoving for hours, staring out the window, hardly even breathing. Saw that look whenever he refused another piece of food. The relief when he accepted it. The relief when he turned to look at Dean, and gave him a smile. And now he understood. And he saw. Saw the grief for what it was. Getting up onto his knees, he wrapped his arms around his brother, holding him gently, both uncaring of the fact that there was slickness between them. There were no words, just soft touches and the brushed of lips against his face, the curve of his shoulder, the dip of his collarbones.

Sam’s body clenched around him as Sam came, and that was all it took to drag Dean over the edge as well. He buried himself deep inside Sam, hips stuttering in almost half thrusts as he came. He lost himself, floating on the mix of pleasure and pain, and when he began to regain awareness of his surroundings he found himself wrapped in Sam’s arms. He held Sam close, pressing his face into Sam’s neck and fighting back the sobs that shook his body. “I’m sorry Sammy,” he whispered against Sam’s skin. “I’ve failed you.”

 “What are you talking about, you freak,” he whispered back, “you’re perfect. You’re why I’m still here right now. You’re beautiful.” Sam was still stroking him, his hair, and his back, just holding him. “It’s okay, you can cry,” he assured, feeling the tears on his shoulder. Pulling Dean in a little closer, he bent his head down, feeling tears of his own coming as well. “I love you,” he whispered, face in Dean’s hair, inhaling the familiar scent of home that was his brother, green apples and whiskey. “Love you so much, would do anything for you not to be crying right now,” he told him, wanting to just collapse in his arms.

Dean shook his head. He wanted to stop crying, but it was like the floodgates had opened. Everything he’d kept pent up inside was pouring out. He almost wanted to blame Sam for it, but Dean knew he couldn’t. He was the one who decided to smoke Sam’s pot. Dean was the one who tried endlessly to please their father but could always seem the disappointment in his eyes. Dean was the one who made it his mission to look after his brother only to have his brother tell him he wanted to end it all. Dean was the one who’d dropped out of school so he could work crappy jobs for minimum wage. Dean was the one who robbed, cheated, and whored himself out for money so he could put food on the table, a roof over their head, and buy the books Sam needed for school. It was Dean’s choice to do it. No one to blame but himself. And the very thought of losing Sammy, the one thing that kept him going… He pulled Sam closer, not wanting to let him go. He clung to his brother and let the tears flow.

Sam squeezed him tighter, clinging onto him like a leach. “Sssshh Dean it’s gonna be okay, it will, you’ll be okay” he promised, trying to soothe him. But the tears didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. “Ssshh” he cooed, rubbing his lower back. Oh god. He never wanted to have to experience this part. The grief was supposed to come  _after_ he was gone, not before, not while he was around to see it. Sam knew the exact solution to his brother crying, but couldn’t bring himself to promise not to go ahead with his plan. The doubt was there though, in the back of his mind, eating at his steadfast plan. It just needed some encouragement…. Or a lot.

Dean shivered at those words. ‘You’ll be okay’. Not ‘we’ll be okay’, just ‘YOU will be okay’. He held Sam in his arms, suddenly caught between the urge to beat some sense into Sam’s head, and to just hold onto Sam forever. He knew neither idea was a good one so he just held on for now, trying to ground himself in the moment. He felt like he was floating on a cloud of despair, every dark thing from his past pulling at him. Sam was his anchor, and Dean was drifting. This hadn’t been how he’d imagine their first time together, but at this moment he couldn’t care either way. He had Sam in his arms and he wasn’t going to let go.

Sam held him tighter, trying to keep him from breaking, not let the cracks get any bigger. Digging his face into his big brothers shoulder, he began sobbing. Choking on breaths and letting out quiet wails. “Dean, Dean, I’m so sorry. I just don’t know how to live. I don’t know how to live anymore, how to breathe, what I’m supposed to do everyday!” he sobbed, words pouring out of him. He couldn’t do this, he was so lost, didn’t know what was expected of him to be a good enough person. He didn’t know how to be good enough. Gripping his big brothers back, he held on so tight, tears running down his face and onto Dean’s shoulder.

Dean was struggling to regain control of his emotions, but the pot in his system was making it all near impossible. His body felt wrecked; a combination of post-orgasmic bliss and full blown anguish. He could feel himself shaking, exhaustion starting to take hold. He rested his chin on Sam’s shoulder and squeezed his eyes closed. “Let me help you, Sammy. S’my job. Gotta protect you. Make everything okay.”

Sam’s head stayed on his shoulder, eyes closed. “Dean you can’t always fix everything,” he whispered, words breaking, choking on air. He was so conflicted. Staying with his brother, this perfect angel of a human, sounded like the most beautiful thing in the world. “Dean… I don’t know if I can,” he choked out, “I don’t know how to live. What to do every day.” 

 “Just let me try, Sammy,” Dean pressed a hand to Sam’s face and turned his brother’s head so he could look him dead in the eye. He brushed away Sam’s tears, smoothing down his hair. “You’ve at least got to let me try.” He leaned forward, kissing away the tiny droplets of salty water that stained Sam’s otherwise perfect cheeks as he cradled Sam to him. “Please let me try,” he whispered, the words almost catching in his throat.

Sam tried to stop crying, but it was difficult. “Dean…” he started, but didn’t actually know how to finish the sentence. Leaning into him, he closed his eyes, and kept sobbing. Sobbing like he was so used to. “How? How? How would you make it better?” he begged, gripping tighter. He couldn’t see anyway for things to be better. But his brother was something, a tiny little point of light, beautiful and his. Maybe,  _maybe_ that would be enough to hold on. He didn’t want to leave his brother. Not like this. Crying and broken.

Shaking his head, still pressed into Dean, he made a decision, but tried not to think about it. After looking forward to the relief of being nothing for so long, it was like the walls were crumbling down, disappointment. “Dean I love you” he whispered, breath hitching. He would throw away the bottle. Burn it, in front of his brother. That was the new plan. After that, he had no idea. That scared him. “Okay,” he whispered, opening his eyes again, staring blankly at the curve of Dean’s nose “okay”.

Dean sensed the change in Sam, a little spark of brightness in the darkness. Dean wanted to reach out and grab it with both hands, but knew it was physically impossible. Instead he just rested his forehead against Sam’s, staring up into Sam’s eyes as he slowly stroked Sam’s arm reassuringly, providing silent comfort and support. They could do this. Together. “Okay,” Dean said, brushing his nose against Sam’s in an Eskimo kiss. “Okay.”

Sam leant forward a little, pressing their lips together gently. Bringing his hands up, he stroked Dean’s face, fingertips brushing over his lips, cheekbones, jawline. Committing them to memory like they weren’t already burned into him. He was still crying, but he felt a little better, overcome with love for his brother. “Gonna throw the poison away, okay?” he promised, gently gripping Dean’s chin, “we’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine, big brother.” Kissing him on the cheek, then mouth, he made his way down Dean’s neck, to his collarbones. Pressing tiny kisses along them he made a pathway that led into the hollow of his neck. From there, he could make his way up to his brother’s mouth.

Dean closed his eyes, tilting his head back and giving Sam better access to his neck. The fact Sam had actually bought the poison broke something inside him, as Dean realized that not only had Sam intended to end it but probably in the next few days. Knowing how close he’d come to losing Sam… Dean let out a choked groan, catching hold of Sam’s face and kissing him hard on the mouth with every bit of desperation he could feel. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing Sam. Ever. Dean was the older one. He knew that eventually they would die, but it’d be in a blaze of glory. Dean was going to go down fighting the demons in the dark, saving people. And he’d die first than risk losing Sam.

Sam let out a little yelp of surprise as Dean grabbed him, sound muffled by his mouth. Grabbing a handful of his hair, he kissed him back with just as much force, trying to show Dean that he was so alive, and okay. All of a sudden he leant back, and pulled his brother down on top of him. Lying on the ground again, Dean’s hair was melting into the stars, becoming one, like the angel he was. God, he’d have to find out what the extra drug was. “Dean,” he whispered in between desperate kisses, trying to get his attention. “Dean I’m right here, it’s okay,” his voice came out thick and quiet, tears still sitting on his cheeks.

Dean had to move fast to keep from squashing Sam, straddling Sam’s legs and catching himself with his hands on either side of Sam’s body. Sam’s words sent another wave of desperation through him, and Dean was really starting to suspect now there was more than just pot in those joints. He never got like this when he got high. He usually just blissed out, and while he often did lose control of his emotions it was never like this.

Dean caught hold of Sam’s shoulders and pressed his knees to Sam’s body, and with one easy move he flipped them over so that Sam was above him, Dean relishing Sam’s weight reminding him that Sam was there. The beat of Sam’s heart where his chest was pressing into Dean’s telling him that Sam was alive. “Need to feel you, Sammy,” Dean said between kisses. His slid his hands down Sam’s back, feeling the slight twitches beneath his hands. “Need to feel you in me.”

Sam instantly pressed his face into Dean’s chest, moaning “oh god Dean”, lips brushing against his skin. Being inside his brother,  _fucking_ his brother. After a moment of panting into his chest, imagining it, he slowly nodded, lifting his torso back up. “Okay… Okay” he whispered, trying to keep himself under control. The urge to keep sobbing was still there, but now so was the urge to fuck his brother into forgetting his pain.

Kissing his Dean hard on the lips, he then moved down his body, worshipping and feeling. Sam tried not to think of the promise he’d made, waiting for tomorrow to have a complete mental and emotional breakdown about it. But maybe this time… Dean could be there to fix him. Sliding his hands under his brother’s perfect ass, he lifted it up, sliding an arm underneath to keep him there. Lapping his tongue over his pretty pink hole, he moaned, and did it again. Over and over, teasing and loving. Until finally slipping it inside, sighing at the perfect silky texture, hot and wet.

Dean rested one hand on the back of Sam’s neck as Sam began to work his way down his body. Dean drew his knees up, still pressed into Sam’s side as if to hold Sam there. He still had a fleeting fear that Sam would run away from this; that he would lose Sam. He canted his hips up as Sam slid his hands beneath him, allowing Sam access to everything. When he felt Sam’s mouth on him, tongue first teasing then sliding inside, Dean couldn’t help the groan. “Oh fuck yes,” he breathed, head falling back against the ground. “Just like that, baby boy. Need to feel you.” Dean brought a hand to his chest and started teasing his nipple, moaning.

Sam looked up, drinking in his words, having to suppress his smile when Dean started touching himself. His free hand traced the insides of his thigh, then traveled up to his stomach, tracing the paint Adonis lines leading down to his cock, perfect and only for him.  Shoving his tongue in further, he started fucking into him, twisting and tasting him. His nose was pressed into Dean’s perineum, totally smooth, and he didn’t care. God, he could do this for hours, fuck his brother with his tongue, bury his face against that tight ass. An outsider would have seen this as weird, both of their faces still covered in tears, but moaning in pleasure. Bringing one hand up, he reluctantly removed his tongue, and slid a finger inside.

Dean thrust himself down on the finger. It wasn’t as thick or warm as Sam’s tongue had been, but he desperately needed to feel Sam inside him. Right now it was one finger, but Dean needed so much more. He fumbled out to the side in the direction of where he had thrown the lube. His fingers brushed the edge of the tube, and with a couple more flaying grabs Dean’s hand closed around it. He flipped the tube onto his stomach where Sam could reach it, knowing his brother would know exactly what to do. Mission accomplished, Dean let himself relax again and succumb to Sam’s touch.

Sam grinned, watching Dean fuck himself onto his finger. Quickly retrieving the lube, he slid his finger out and coated two in it, before gently pushing them back in. Sam let Dean adjust for a second, before slowly starting to fuck his brother with his fingers. Scissoring them, he opened him up, watching Dean’s face for any signs of pain. Then he added a third finger, picking up the speed a little, mouth coming down to bite and suck at his inner thigh. “You want me to fuck you, Dean?” he whispered, lips brushing against his smooth skin. “Want me to own you, claim you, stretch you too wide with my cock?” He didn’t know where the words were coming from, but he didn’t stop.

Dean groaned at those words, unable to keep himself from pushing down on the fingers inside him. It’d been a while since he’d done this, but it was like riding a bike. All he knew right now was that he wanted Sam in him. The sooner the better. He needed to feel Sam, have him closer than a brother should be. He chewed his lip, pressing his heels into the ground to raise himself up just a little bit more. “If you don’t do it soon,” Dean moaned, “I’m gonna pin you down and ride you. So stop talking and start fucking me already!”

 “You know… That sounds pretty hot,” he mused, not speeding up at all. After a few more moments, he took his fingers out, and crawled up his brother’s body, kissing his way up to his chest. Biting his neck softly, he ground his hips do Dean, teasing. Sam kissed up his jaw, finally finding his mouth, parting his lips and inviting him inside. Then he reached down between them and lubed up his cock, tossing the tube somewhere onto the grass. Breaking away, he let the tip rest at his entrance. “Want me to fuck you Dean? Say it; tell me how much you want it.” Sam was getting off on this, way too much.

Dean groaned, trying to press down on Sam’s cock. He needed it in him. NOW. “Dammit, Sam.” Dean’s fingers dug into Sam’s shoulders so tight he knew he was probably leaving bruises. “C’mon. Stop being a bitch.” He wrapped his legs around Sam, pressing his heels into Sam’s ass and pushing him forward even as Dean ground down. “This is your last warning. Fuck me or I’ll flip you over!”

Sam couldn’t keep the little groan in, Dean’s fingers gripping his skin. “You know this… This is hot. Maybe I’ll keep this up,” he teased, dragging his lips back and forth across his brother’s jawline. After waiting just  _one_ more second, to be the dick that he was, he pushed inside his Dean with one smooth motion. Crying out, he dropped his face into the curve of his brother’s shoulder, biting down on his neck. 

 “Oh FUCK yes!” Dean arched into Sam, cherishing the burn as Sam entered him. This was exactly what he needed – the pain grounding him in reality and reminding him that Sam, his Sam, was still here. It was everything Dean had dreamed about, every little fantasy he’d had as he jerked himself off. At the same time it was better because this was real. “C’mon baby bro.” He groaned, pressing against Sam. “Show me what you’ve got. Fuck me. Fuck me hard.” He wrapped his legs around Sam’s back, feeling Sam slide deeper. “Need to feel you.”

Sam shuddered, pressing him into harder, making sure he was as deep as he could go. “Fuck, Dean!” he growled, before bracing his hands either side of his head, and ramming into him. Sam rammed into him over and over, settling into a perfect rhythm, catching Dean’s mouth. “Fuck!” he growled into his mouth, probably fucking him a little too hard, but he just couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t ever stop, if he had the choice. Dean’s ass was so tight around him, hot and wet.

Dean was loving it. Every thrust was driving home the reality that Sam was here, that he and Sam were more than brothers. Dean just hoped than when the night was over and the pot was gone that Sam didn’t pretend that nothing had happened. Dean didn’t think he could handle that. That’s another reason why he needed this, why he needed to be able to feel it in the morning. To remind him that it wasn’t a dream. He tried to pull Sam in deeper, Dean rocking into each thrust. “Harder, Sammy. Fuck me harder. Wanna feel it. Need to know it’s real.”

 “Oh god Dean,” he groaned, fucking into him harder, faster, rougher. His brother was fucking loving it, and it made Sam’s hips jerk, breaking his rhythm for a moment. “Way too hot Dean, way too hot for your own good,” he growled, biting his earlobe all of a sudden. Kissing along his jaw, he trailed down his neck and along his collarbones, biting occasionally. “Fuck!” the words just wouldn’t stop; he was killing himself with this. Sam wasn’t sure what would happen in the morning, if he would pretend it never happened, or… Hell, he had no idea what the other alternative was. Dean would be his… Boyfriend?

Dean scratched at Sam’s back, trying to find leverage. The rocks and sticks amongst the grass dug into him, and Dean knew he’d probably be bruised and scratched there. He didn’t care though. Dean tried to shift, trying to find the perfect angle so that every time Sam thrust in he’d strike the prostate. He hadn’t found it yet, and Dean knew that if he could then he just might be able to come without either of them having to touch his cock. “”Shit,” Dean groaned, head falling back into the grass. “C’mon Sammy. Need it.” Almost. He’d almost found the sweet spot. “Need you deeper. Need you balls deep, baby boy.”

Watching Dean squirm, he grinned into his skin, and instantly angled his thrusts, knowing exactly where to find his brothers sweet spot. Thank you very much Lucy the prostitute. The new angle not only allowed him to hit the perfect spot every time, but also let him go deeper, balls snug against his ass. Groaning, he arched up into Dean’s fingernails, wanting them to dig in. “Fuck, Dean! Hurt me. Hurt me. Something. I deserve it” he begged. Sam felt disgusting, he’d made his angel cry, sob. He deserved to be punished.

 “Would never hurt you, Sammy,” Dean said, then let out a cry as Sam hit that spot. Dean’s back arched from the ground as Sam hit it again and again, Dean’s breathes coming in ragged gasps. Every thrust winded him, pleasure replacing any semblance of pain. “Fuck Sammy! Right fucking there!” He gripped Sam’s shoulders and Dean knew he’d broken the skin as he felt the warm wetness pool around his fingertips. He knew he should feel bad, but at this moment all he cared about was Sam’s cock buried deep inside, Dean able to feel every twitch and pulse as Dean clamped himself down on it, tightening the muscles of his ass as he tried to pull Sam in deeper.

Sam made a noise somewhere in between a yell, sigh and groan, throwing his head back. “God! Dean! Don’t stop! Please don’t stop!” he shrieked, pounding into him even harder. Then Dean was clenching around him, and he swore he almost came right then, letting out a groan. “Dean! Dean so tight oh god,” he babbled, burying himself in that tight heat over and over. Pain was exploding between his shoulder blades, and he could feel blood trickling down his back. Perfection. 

Dean would have replied if he could, but he had just crossed the line into nonsensical thought, and with that came the inability to speak. He could only groan out something that sounded like Sam’s name as he moved with his brother, white spots now dancing in front of Dean’s gaze. Eventually he couldn’t keep his eyes open, and before he knew it Dean came. The world just seemed to explode as his back arched at an almost impossible angle, nails tearing at Sam as Dean cried out Sam’s name into the night. He could feel the warm heat splashing between himself and Sam and barely registered that it was his cum as he clamped down on Sam so tightly he thought Sam would never be able to free himself, and Dean was perfectly okay with that.

Sam cried out with his brother, coming at the same time, pain shooting through his body, screaming his name. Dean’s fingernails were in his back, and his ass was clenching around his cock. That the end of it. His cock pulsed inside Dean, coming so hard it almost hurt, painting his insides. His hips jerked erratically, entire body seizing up. Then his muscles released and he was flooded with perfect bliss. Half-collapsing onto his big brother, he pressed his face into Dean’s chest, breathing in his smell. After a moment or two, he tried to get up, maybe even take his cock out of his brother ass if he was feeling energetic. 

Dean wasn’t having any part of it. While he loosened his grip around Sam, he let his legs drop down to tangle around Sam’s, still holding him close. He pressed his nose into Sam’s hair, carefully removing his hands from Sam’s back and wincing as his fingers cramped at the suddenly release of grip. He folded Sam in his arms as he fought to regain his breath, coming down off the orgasmic high but still riding on the drug induced one. Dean had a strong urge for a beer and a burger, but didn’t really want to get up and go back to the cabin where he had one of those. The other wasn’t going to happen until Dad came back and picked them up. Dean kissed the top of Sam’s head. “We do that well together,” he said.

Sam let his brother manhandle him, manipulating him into the position he wanted. Sam smiled lazily against his chest, replying “you think?” in a cute little voice. His fingers stroked Dean’s chest softly, tracing shapes into his skin. They came to life underneath his hand. He wrapped himself around his brother as much as he could, tangling their legs together, and sliding one hand gently into his hair. The other was in front of his own face, enjoying Dean’s chest.

Dean gazed up toward the stars properly for the first time that evening, taking in the untarnished view. He loved it when they were far from cities and towns because it left the night sky unblemished, and Dean could just lay there and pick out constellations. Not that he’d ever let on to Dad or Sam that he did that – it wasn’t exactly a ‘manly’ thing. Bobby though… Bobby had taught him that knowing the night sky was better than any compass as it could tell you where you were, which direction you were headed, and where you had to go. He’d let Bobby teach him on quiet nights at Sioux Falls while Sam was tucked in asleep like the square he was.

Dean turned his head, gazing down at his brother. Sam wasn’t a little boy anymore; he wasn’t quite a man either. Dean knew ever since the day he’d finally had to break it to Sam that the monsters were real that Sam would never be able to go back to being innocent, but he’d never expected it to get this bad. Dean knew how hard the life was, how much their father burdened things on them – on him – but he should have done more to look after Sam. Dean sighed. From now on, Sam was going to come first, and Dean was going to give him every reason he could as to why Sam needed to keep on living.

Sam could tell his brother was in deep thought, he did this weird thing with his right hand, touching all his fingers to his thumb. He’d keep doing it until someone snapped him out of thoughts, but Sam wasn’t going to do that tonight. He just hoped whatever he was thinking about was nice. But Sam had his own thoughts. He had to find reasons for staying, no matter how small they were.

Closing his eyes, he felt where he was pressed against Dean, legs, stomach, chest, and the side of his face.  _See, Sam? Huh? This is nice. You would miss this._ There was one, human contact, how it felt to be held against Dean, like a little child. “One,” he whispered unconsciously, voice hardly even audible. The fingertips on his brother’s chest travelled up to his neck, stroking and admiring.

The slight whisper was enough to startle Dean back out of his thoughts, and with a slight frown he gazed down at his brother. He brought his hand up to gently brush the damp hair back away from Sam’s eyes, pressing a soft kiss onto Sam’s forehead. Dean made a content noise, then winced slightly as he became aware of a rock pressing uncomfortably into his shoulder blade. He nudged Sam, a smile on his lips. “Really should get back to the cabin, Sammy. Maybe have a beer, then go to bed.” He dropped a suggestion into the word bed, hoping Sam would pick up on it.

Sam frowned, gripping his tighter, clinging stubbornly. “No! Don’t want to let go,” he insisted, pressing a kiss to his chest. He got the subtle hint in the word bed, and cuddling sounded good… So did more sex to be honest. But he couldn’t even contemplate letting go of his brother long enough to walk back. Besides, getting dressed was going to be annoying too. “Can’t be bothered getting dressed either! Can’t we just stay here?” he begged, knowing the answer would be no anyway. His brother wouldn’t want him to get sick. He would have to get up.

 “Sam, I’ve got sticks and rocks sticking into me in places sticks and rocks shouldn’t go,” Dean said, gently prying Sam off him enough so that he could sit up. “We don’t have to get dressed. Not that far a walk and there’s no one around.” He tilted Sam’s head back and placed a soft kiss on his lips, and unable to help himself he stole another. Dean stretched, reaching behind him to brush away the twigs that had embedded themselves into his back. “Not sure about you, but I want the next round to be on a mattress.”

Sam giggled, letting Dean pull him up into a sitting position. Nodding, he kissed his brother back. God he was so happy right now. He reached behind Dean’s back and helped him brush the twigs off, before bursting into nervous laughter, “oh god Dean!” he giggled, digging his face into his brothers shoulder. He was still just as shy and giggly as usual… When he wasn’t being depressed and silent. After a second or two more, he reluctantly got out of Dean’s lap, before pulling him to his feet as well. Sam was still pretty high, he could just feel the edges of his mind beginning to clear slightly. He couldn’t decide whether to let himself come down from the high or get him and his brother some more pot… Slash whatever else was in there. 

Dean reached down, almost overbalancing as he picked up his and Sam’s clothing. As he straightened he frowned, blinking for a moment before he pulled a face. “Dude, I can feel your cum leaking out of me.” He glanced down, noting a droplet running down his thigh and used his finger to wipe it up, then sucked his finger clean as he began to stumble back toward the cabin. “Grab the pot and lube, Sammy-boy. Definitely going to need the second one again tonight. And hurry up. If I’m horny again by the time I get back to the cabin and you’re not there I’m going to take care of it myself.”

Sam watched Dean’s announcement with an amused expression. But then he was wiping his cum off his thigh and putting it to his lips, tasting it, and he almost pushed him back down onto the ground and took him again right there. “God Dean don’t do that unless you want me to screw you again right here,” he warned, quickly gathering their things in a bundle. “Hey!” he complained, not liking the thought of his brother finishing  _himself_ off without him. Also… More sex. That sounded pretty good. Following along behind his brother, he hid his face with their bundle of clothes, trying to hide his blush.

As they made their way back to the cabin Dean began to contemplate putting his jeans back on. The low branches and bushes scratched at his legs, and he kept telling himself to man up as he stepped on yet another sharp rock. Reaching the cabin he entered first, doing a quick room check to make sure they were alone and then going over the doors and windows to make sure all the salt lines were intact out of instinct. “Want a drink, Sammy?” Dean asked, throwing their clothes in the direction of the bedroom before making his way to the cooler. “You can have a beer if you want one. I won’t tell Dad.”

Sam kept trying to stifle his giggles on the walk home, so aware of Dean’ cum very slowly running down his thighs. Now back inside, he refused the beer with a shake of his head, walking over to his brother. “Dean. I think you might have to get on the bed. Right about now,” he announced, eyes raking over his body. Sam was already hard again, just from thinking about all the things he was going to do to his brother, and replaying the stuff they had  _already_ done. Pressing up against Dean, his hand slid across his hips, before grabbing his ass, nibbling at his collarbones with a growl.

Sam might not have wanted a drink, but Dean was parched. He flicked the lid off using his ring, taking a long drink and almost choking on it at Sam’s words. He closed his eyes at Sam’s touch, before a wicked grin crossed Dean’s lips. He set the bottle down on the counter, then grabbed Sam around the waist and manhandled him over to the table, pushing Sam down on it. He leaned over his brother, pressing his already aching cock against Sam’s ass and whispered in his ear. “I believe you said something about wanting me to fuck you bent over a table.”

Sam smiled in amusement, Dean practically inhaling the beer on accident. Then his smile was gone, replaced by a confused expression, as his brother forced him over a table. But then the words came out, and he shuddered, remembering one of his daydreams. “Oh god Dean,” he breathed, bracing himself on top of the table, fingertips trying to dig into the wood. Half-panting already in anticipation, he nodded quickly, pressing his ass back into Dean’s too-big cock. When God had designed Dean Winchester, they had started with his cock and worked outwards from there. No wonder the rest of him had to be scaled down just a tiny bit…

 “Now how did you say you wanted it?” Dean said, kissing the back of Sam’s neck then nipping at the same spot. He pushed Sam’s legs apart with his thigh, pressing a finger up inside of Sam. “God, you should feel yourself Sammy. Still so loose and filled with my cum. Gonna fill you up more.” Without any warning Dean pushed his cock up into Sam, moaning at the heat and tightness as he slid in deep. He grabbed Sam’s hips as he bottomed out, reaching up with one hand and fisting Sam’s hair, pulling it back. “How do you want it, Sammy? Want to feel me for a month?”

 “Rough, rough!” he answered, practically pressing his forehead into the table. Dean’s mouth was on the back of his neck, and he was pretty much already losing it, shamelessly letting out needy moans at his brother’s words and finger in his ass. Then Dean’s cock was ramming into his ass and he cried out, instantly pushing back into him. Weird noises came out of him, like stuttering moans, and his hair was being yanked back, forcing him to look up the ceiling. It made his back arch, ass sticking up like a slut. “Yes! Yes! Please, mark me up, make feel it for a month! Please Dean!” he begged, fucking himself on his brothers cock, but only really being able to grind into him, restricted by the hand in his hair. “God Dean, fuck, please!” his voice was needy and strained, hands gripping at the table far too hard. He needed this. And wasn’t past begging like a whore to get it.

Rough sex had never really been something Dean had been into, but there were times when he needed it. Right now, still high off pot and with Sam begging him, was one of those times. Dean gripped Sam’s hair tighter and bit down on his shoulder, adjusting his grip on Sam’s hip with his free hand so that he could guide Sam backward with each hard thrust. He could hear the table creaking with every move, the slap of skin on skin with each push deep inside of Sam. “Like it, baby boy. This how you want it?” Dean angled himself for Sam’s sweet spot, ramming into it even has he pulled Sam back onto him with his fingers tight in Sam’s long hair. “Gonna fuck you so hard we’re gonna break the table. Gonna fuck you so loose we won’t need lube ever again. Want that, Sammy?

Sam gasped, a small amount of pain flaring in his shoulder. God, Dean’s teeth. He couldn’t stop groaning and gasping, letting out little whines. Fuck, his brother was practically abusing his prostate, ramming into it with so much force. It was perfect. Sam kept fucking himself back into those brutal thrusts, getting off in the painful grip in his hair. He nodded vigorously at Dean’s questions, shivering at his voice. No one had a batter voice than his brother, deep and sensual.

“Yes, yes! Please Dean!” he begged. He wanted to hang his head below his shoulder blades, but he wasn’t allowed to, so he squeezed his eyes shut, head tipped backwards. Slow sex was good. Perfect. Loving and reassuring, a kind of spiritual experience. But rough sex was also good. Perfect. Designed to force all stress and worries out of your mind. Right now that was what he needed. Maybe later they would do it slow, grinding into him for over an hour, petting and soothing and shushing. 

Dean was getting off on the sounds Sam was making, Dean chewing on his lower lip to try and keep himself from coming. It was hard, as the sounds were blatantly pornographic. Dean widened his stance to give himself better leverage and thrust up harder, faster, into Sam’s tight hole. “Should’ve known you’d like it rough,” he gasped out. “Always the fucking quiet ones.” Dean’s fingers tightened in Sam’s hair, tugging on the strands. “C’mon, baby boy. Want to see you paint the table white.”

Sam listened to Dean’s words, but was a little fucking distracted as his brother sped up. “Dean! Fuck,” he gasped. Nodding at Dean’s command, he moaned again, already so close to tipping over. Just a few more seconds and he would be gone. What the fuck happened to him. What the fuck led him here? At least that would be what he was thinking if he wasn’t so fucking high…

Dean could sense a shift in Sam, feel a tenseness in him as he got closer to the edge. Dean wished he could lean forward and bite at Sam’s back because he was sure that that would tip Sam over breaking point, but the pace and angle meant Dean was restricted. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, feeling an almost cramp like ache in his legs from the angle and exertion that he wasn’t accustomed too. He could very easily get used to this. If Sam let him, that was. “Fuck Sammy,” he groaned. “Need you to cum, baby boy. So fucking close.”

Sam let out a cry, and came so fucking hard, painting the table beneath him white, with a scream of his brother’s name. As he came he arched more, hair being pulled backwards, clenching his ass around Dean’s huge cock. Sam’s hands frantically grabbed at the table, trying to hold onto something. Slowly he came down from the high, opening his eyes a letting out a small moan. He was panting, pushing back into his brother, wanting to make him feel good. He would miss this.

Sam’s cry and the feeling of Sam clenching down on him took Dean over the edge just seconds behind his brother. Dean had always been proud of his stamina, but his little brother was bringing him undone. It shouldn’t surprise him really – Sam had always had that power over him. One flutter of those eyelashes and one look with those puppy brown eyes and Sam could probably made Hannibal Lecter do whatever Sam wanted. As Dean came down from his orgasmic bliss he could feel his legs shaking uncontrollably. He managed to pull out of Sam gently before they finally gave way, sending him crumbling to the floor. He lay back, gasping at the air and draping an arm over his eyes. “Dammit Sammy, what the fuck are you doing to me,” he groaned. “Not complaining, but… fuck.”

Sam gasped in surprise, hand slipping out of his hair all of a sudden. “Dean?!” he shrieked, turning around to find him on the floor. Bending over, he wrapped an arm around his brother and helped him to his feet. “God, De, couldn’t even make it to the bed?” he asked, actually finding it hard to walk as well. His ass hurt, and he realized that Dean had truly made good on his promise. It would be awkward to sit for a while. Helping him over to the bed, and lay him down on his back. Crawling up over him, he winced at the slight burn in his ass, straddling him. Leaning down, he kissed up Dean’s neck until he found his mouth, gently placing a kiss there. He was sore and kinda tired, but he was blissed out, post orgasm and still pretty high.

Dean let Sam help him onto the bed, especially since right at that moment Dean wasn’t capable of making it himself. Between the pot, the sex, and the emotional roller-coaster he’d been on all night Dean was a mess. He pulled Sammy to him, wrapping his arms around his brother’s waist and returning the kiss. He kept the kiss gentle, needing softness after that recent round on the table and the one down by the lake. He smiled into the kiss, pulling back from it and meeting Sam’s eye. “What say we continue this in the morning, Sammy. I’m wrecked.” He kissed Sam again, nibbling gently on his lower lip. “In the morning we should make a list of every single thing we’ve ever wanted to do to each other and start checking them off. Deal?”

Sam giggled quietly, before nodding. He was pretty tired. “I love you,” he mumbled, wrapping himself around Dean, still on top of him. He knew he was pretty light, but still hoped his brother didn’t mind, that he wasn’t hurting him. “This okay?” he whispered, already feeling the edges of his mind go fuzzy. Tomorrow. He hoped like hell that tomorrow would be different. That he wouldn’t wake up and just look at his own body with disgust. Look outside and see people together, while he sat inside, so alone. Sure, Dean had been there, but he didn’t know what was going on in Sam’s head, why he was so dark and gloomy all the time. Dean was there but only as a brother. Not loving him like he loved Dean. Well, at least, not that he _knew_ of.

Dean shifted Sam’s body slightly so that Sam’s lanky teenaged angles didn’t press into Dean’s own still developing ones. He kissed Sam’s forehead gently, enjoying the weight of Sam against him, the warmth reminding him that Sam was right here, still alive, and with him. “I love you too, Sam,” Dean said, not using the nickname but rather the name he knew Sam preferred. The name Sam insisted on being called because he was a man now, not a boy, and Dean made a decision right then to start treating Sam as such. Sam would always be his little brother that Dean helped raise, but he was also a hunter, a genius, and now Dean’s equal and lover. “Always have.”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, one hand reaching up to grip a handful of Dean’s hair. One tiny little tear slid down his cheek, and he whispered “God why couldn’t you just have told me Dean…” remembering every single time he’d lay awake at night wishing just that was true. Wishing someone loved him like that. Wishing his brother loved him like that. The rat poison was still sitting in his duffel, right at the bottom. Sam clung to Dean tighter, hoping that by tomorrow his brother would still want to fix him, make him better, love him like this. Because Sam wasn’t entirely sure at all that he would want to be fixed. Let alone try and fix himself. 

 “You were too young, Sam,” Dean said, one hand gently caressing the fine hairs on the back of Sam’s neck. “By law, I mean. Didn’t want to get my ass hauled off for statutory rape. Besides,” Dean huffed, slightly amused, “we’re brothers. Thought the whole thing would have weirded you out.” He paused, turning his head slightly to look down at Sam. “It doesn’t weird you out, does it? Cause if you wanna stop all you’ve got to do is say so and I will.” He worried his lip. “And don’t… tell Dad… about this, okay? He’d cut my balls off and shoot me.”

Sam couldn’t even say anything, just lay there, a few more tears rolling down his cheek. He’d spent so many hours, razor blade held to his skin, sobbing on the bathroom floor, just wishing that someone would love him. Love him enough to save him. It may have been the drugs, or maybe it was just his own emotions, but he was spiraling downwards, into that pit of nothing. Maybe he wouldn’t come out of this alive. Maybe he didn’t want to. All of a sudden he had to get out, needed to breathe. Quickly getting off his brother, he threw on the nearest t shirt, one of Dean’s no less, and underwear. With a mumble of “i’llbeback” he rushed outside, standing in front of the house, trying to pull air into his lungs. Nothing would ever be okay. He couldn’t be fixed.

Dean frowned as Sam suddenly took off, dressing and disappearing. Dean pushed himself up off the bed, grabbing a pair of jeans and pulling them on, not bothering with underwear. He glanced around, checking that everything was okay and a little reassured that his danger sense wasn’t going off. Instead he felt only the niggling sense that something was wrong with Sam.

Dean made his way barefoot to the front door, opening it and stepping carefully over the salt line. He spotted Sam, frowning as he realized Sam was having some kind of panic attack. Dean kept his distance, not sure how Sam would react to being touched right now. All Dean wanted to do was bundle him up in his arms and kiss him until everything was better, but Dean didn’t have a magical healing dick no matter how much he wished he did. Instead Dean leaned against the door frame, watching Sam for any clue as to what was going on in his little brother’s head. “Sam?”

Sinking to the ground, He wrapped himself up in a ball, letting himself start sobbing like he wanted to. “Dean I can’t do this. I can’t do this” he was mumbling now, rocking back and forth on the deck floor “I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this”. He was panting now, trying to suck in air, he couldn’t breathe. “Dean, De, I-” then nothing.

Dean managed to dart forward and catch Sam before he collapsed, gently lying Sam’s unconscious form down on the porch. “Shit, Sammy,” he said, brushing the hair back from Sam’s face as he felt panic begin to build up inside him. He checked Sam’s vitals, and aside from a racing heartbeat there was no real sign of anything wrong.   
  
He’d blacked out, he realized, slowly coming to. Sam could tell he was outside, on the deck. He mustn’t have been out so log then. Blinking, he tried to sit up, the wood of the porch was far too cold. Tears were still sitting on his cheeks, but no new ones were coming.

Dean contemplated calling their father but quickly threw that idea out the window. If it was a negative reaction to the drugs then that was the last thing their Dad needed to know about. Dean stepped inside the house, searching through his bag and finding the anxiety medication Dean had stolen for himself before they’d come out here. He filled a glass with water, and was relieved to see Sam was awake when he went back outside.  
  
He slipped in behind Sam, pulling Sam back against his chest to give Sam something to lean against as he set the glass down and handed Sam two pills. “Take these. They help with panic attacks. Trust me.” Dean ran his fingers through Sam’s hair, frowning. “Talk to me, Sammy. What’re you thinking?”

Sam let Dean help him up, but refused the pills. He didn’t want to mix stuff. Leaning back against his brother, he wrapped his arms around himself again, trying to breathe deeply. “Dean….” he murmured, leaning his head back against his chest. How the hell was he supposed to tell his brother that he couldn’t live? Still wanted to kill himself even after this. He wasn’t thinking rationally, obviously, because if he was he would see the love he had. It was exactly what he’d been begging for. Praying for.

 “Drink the water at least,” Dean said, pushing the glass closer to Sam as he wrapped his arms around his brother, pulling Sam back against his chest. “Talk to me, Sam,” he said into Sam’s hair. “What’s going on in that oversized head of yours. Take it from me, bottling it all up doesn’t help.” Dean frowned. “I talk to Bobby and Pastor Jim when I need to vent. We could get out of here and go see one of them. Screw what Dad says about staying put.”

Sam took a sip of the water, then put it down beside them. Trying to relax back into his brother, closed his eyes and tried to just concentrate on his body. Dean’s voice was flowing into his hair, and his back was flush with his chest. Sam felt safe. He considered his brothers suggestion, eyebrows pinching up. How would Bobby react to this? Would he be mad? Did Sam actually want anyone else to know about this… He wasn’t sure if he would tell Bobby. Hell, Dean might tell him without asking. But either way, he loved Bobby, felt safe around him too. Nodding slowly, he agreed “yeah… Yeah can we go see Bobby?” nuzzling back into his brother. 

 “Okay, Sammy,” Dean said, smoothing down Sam’s hair as he listened to Sam’s breathing. His brother seemed to be relaxing and calming down, much to Dean’s relief. Dean knew what it was like to go through those sought of panic attacks. Heck, he’d been having them since he was about nine. Dean glanced around them, taking in their surroundings. “First thing in the morning though, okay? You know what’s in the night.” He shifted. “Think you can get up? Need to get back inside.”

Sam nodded, trying to heave himself up off the porch, but having to rely heavily on Dean. Finally getting back inside, he crawled under the covers and closed his eyes instantly, fucking exhausted. Blindly reaching out for his brother, not even knowing which direction he was in, he sighed. Sam was kinda screwed up, wasn’t he? Oh well, he had Dean. God, he hoped the effects of the drugs had worn off by the morning, because his mood swings were not that pleasant. Bobby. God, he loved him. Either chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast (like their mom had made, Dean told him), or bacon and eggs. Bobby’s house was his true home, apart from the impala.

Dean made sure to lock the cabin up tight, putting everything away and checking the salt lines. Once he was satisfied they were safe, Dean set his gun and knife down in easy reach before sliding into bed with Sam, pulling his brother to him. First thing in the morning Dean would pack their bags, leave a short note for their Dad, and walk Sam back out the long track to the main road. There was a gas station with adjoining roadhouse not too far away, and Dean could hotwire a car and get them to Sioux Falls within the next day or so if he forgoed sleep. Dean closed his eyes, listening to Sam breath and trying to time his breathes to Sam’s, slowly falling asleep.

Sam made a happy little hum in the back of his throat, feeling Dean’s arms wrap around him. He would be at Bobby’s house. With their own room that they had been sleeping in whenever they stayed since he could remember. Tucking his head into Dean’s chest, he played all the best memories over and over in his head, until he fell asleep. Going to the river, him Bobby and Dean, taking burgers. After him and his brother had swam, they’d all thrown a frisbee around. He’d watched Dean smile and laugh, jumping to catch the red plastic disc, and fell in love with him. The way the corners of his eyebrows brushed his cheeks when he smiled wide, that cute little shy expression when he dropped or missed the frisbee. It was one of the best days he could ever remember. But it also pushed him off the cliff, sending him into a downwards spiral of self-loathing for being so sick, and crippling loneliness.


End file.
